Frida
by Ancam
Summary: Tells the story of how a Northumbrian girl's life is turned upside down, when she is brought to the homelands of the Vikings. A different historical perspective of Ragnar's saga that includes old Nordic tales, proverbs and songs as to create a true Danish Viking appeal - written by a Dane. (OC/Ragnar-because there are too few of them out there) Rated M for explicit sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! So I decided to go for a Vikings-fic, and I wanted to do an OC/Ragnar one, as I think there are too few of them out there. So here you have it :-D I hope you'll all let me know what you think for better or for worse ;-) Enjoy!**

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How the priest could manage to speak at such a slow pace was incredible, his words were blurry and protracted, and they all seemed meaningless to her.

She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap as the good Christian she was, and she bit down on her lip.

The Great Church in which the whole city sat benched was badly lit, sun hardly crawling in through the small windows placed at the upper part of the walls. The air was thick with dust in here, and it always made her feel nauseous. She felt Lady Liofrun's eyes on her, which made her stir nervously in her seat and blink her eyes a couple of times. She had herself never been much of a fan of going to church, and of that she was embarrassed, because her lady and everyone else had the Lord very close to their heart. She had never met the Lord. She had never truly felt the presence of God, the Holy Spirit, Jesus, the Mother Mary, or anyone else mentioned in the Holy Book.

But she was scared to admit it.

A slight squeeze on her upper arm from Lady Liofrun made her look up from her lap, and as the priest mumbled out the Latin words "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti," she hurriedly crossed her chest like everyone else.

Lady Liofrun was not her real mother. She had merely adopted that role when Fridogitha had been placed at her doorstep 21 years ago, and now Fridogitha sat there beside her Lady feeling embarrassed that she had never truly adopted the role as her daughter. She exhaled deeply as the church bells rang.

 _Finally,_ she thought, as all the villagers got up on their feet to get in line and receive the blood and flesh of Jesus Christ. She was glad it was just bread and wine. The real thing would have been horrendous.

Now Fridogitha could return to her and Lady Liofrun's home, where she would spend her day like all other days, caring for the goats and maybe finishing the apron she was working on. Fridogitha loved clothing and especially making them herself. Sowing had always been her favorite way of making time fly faster, and it had also always been perceived to be a good way for young Christian girls to be creative.

Fridogitha quickly downed the small glass of wine offered to her by the priest, even though she did not like the way it always bubbled and burned in her insides. She looked up on the great cross hanging above the altar, at Christ up there looking down on them all with a defeated expression in his eyes. She looked at his dead and sorrowful gaze, and a shiver ran down her spine. She would surely never make her way to Heaven when her time came, but she was the only one in the village who knew that.

All their neighbors always complimented Lady Liofrun for having raised such a virginal and quiet daughter, but they did not know how she really felt about the Lord. She hated him and feared him at the same time.

Everyone always talked about the blessings of God and how he would love and care for all his children on Earth, but she could not grasp that as reality. She had never felt his hands on her shoulder, nor had she seen his angels walk among the villagers of her town. Disease, poverty and death were the only angels that walked darkly among the villagers in her part of the city.

 _Maybe Mother Mary, Uriel and the other good angels only visit the rich,_ she thought to herself as she and her Lady were sitting down on the hard wooden bench once more to give a final prayer to God before they could leave. _Surely,_ her mind wandered, _the Great Lord they all worship wouldn't have wanted for his children to be pursued by King Ælla for all their riches; burned, hanged and tortured for things that they hadn't done, or..._ She felt a stone drop to her stomach and a pressing feeling in her throat.

 _Like my mother, burned on a stake for everyone to see, simply for being skilled in medicine._

Naturally, Fridogitha had been too young for her to remember the sentence being executed, but Lady Liofrun had explained to her what had happened to her mother, never in details of course.

As she had come to understand, her mother had always had a great interest in the forces of nature, and she had performed medicinal wanders. Miracles even, Lady Liofrun had pressed, with the products that she brought from the forest. "One day," Lady Liofrun explained, "your mother came from the forest bewildered. She had been told by a bird that a disease was coming to our village, a horrible and flesh-eating disease that would destroy families and take many of our loved ones with it. Only if all ate a special plant would the disease be impenetrable." But no one had listened to her, and when the disease spread through the city, the King's men accused her mother of witchery.

"We, the folks of the poorer part of the city, had listened to her and had eaten the plant, and we therefore suffered not under the plague. The richer people had not suffered either, as excessive bathing in warm waters also proved to be a cure. But she had still made the prophecy, and she therefore had to be burned publicly."

Lady Liofrun had always explained to Fridogitha, or Frida as she liked to call her, that the bird that had spoken to her mother was sent from God as a warning of the coming work of the devil. But Frida had never really believed that. Because she could sometimes hear the animals talking too, and they had never mentioned anything about the Lord.

A loud thundering crash suddenly roared out from the back of the church, the doors flying open. The entire church started and gasped loudly in surprise, including Frida who was ripped out of her thoughts and back to reality both by the sound and the sudden sunlight filling the room.

Scattered frightened screams were heard, and Frida quickly turned around to see what could have caused the commotion. Fear spread out over her skin as she saw their big silhouettes, her eyes not easily adjusting to the light from outside. _Monsters,_ she thought to herself, as she felt Lady Liofrun's protecting arms clasping around her. _Has the devil himself come?_ She asked herself, stretching her neck to get a better picture of their intruders.

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 **So...?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Aw, you came back. I'm starting to like you already :)**

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It seemed like everyone in the church was frozen in place. Even the priest and the churchmen were so surprised by the sudden intrusion of their church that they did not move a muscle.

The villagers slowly started to be able to get a better look at their intruders, as their eyes grew accustomed to the sunlight.

Some began to cry while others started to move around, away from the huge men standing by the door. There were approximately twenty men or more, Frida was not sure as she could not see much from where she sat. But she could see that they all were clothed very differently than the villagers. Well, differently than anyone she had ever seen, actually.

They were all covered in leather and fur, and they carried beautifully painted round shields and weapons.

 _Weapons?_

She suddenly realized the gravity of the situation.

These men were definitely not from around here, and their heavy artillery could only mean one thing. They were not here to make friends.

Her eyes soon connected with one of the tall men in the crowd, and a great shiver ran down her spine, as he squinted his eyes at her. He looked like the Devil himself, standing there in person, the tallest of them all, darkness circling his eyes and running down his cheeks. But she could not tear her eyes away from him, even if she tried.

His face twisted, and before long she realized that he was smiling at her. Devilishly.

She felt Lady Liofrun pulling at her arm, and it was not until then that she was finally able to look away, down on her Lady who was sitting down.

All the villagers had sat down except for Frida, and she quickly got down on the floor. One of the intruders stepped forward, causing all the villagers to back away even more. His eyes were hovering over the villagers, and a small curl on his lips made him look... Almost satisfied?

This man did not look as frightening as the devilish looking man, but Frida was not sure if that was even possible to do. He moved very smoothly forward, stealthily like a beast of prey, holding out a sword that was pointed at the priest who was still standing at the altar with the Holy Book in his shaking hands.

Frida felt Lady Liofrun crossing her chest, but she could not be bothered with praying right now, as her curiosity still had her clinging her eyes to the strangers.

"What, in the name of God, is the meaning of this?" quaked the priest in a very thin voice, slicing the thick silence that prevailed among them all.

The man moving forward curled his lips even more, and he looked back on his fellow warriors, causing the devil man to snigger as he made a small nervous jump where he stood.

The heavily braided man, she supposed he was their leader or best warrior, opened his mouth and spoke peculiar words. Frida guessed that it was a foreign language, but it was not long before she realized that they were actually English.

Heavily accented English.

"You call us Norsemen," the man said as he took another step forward while eyeing the priest over his blade still pointed at him, "Are you priest?"

Frida's thoughts raged. _Norsemen? From the North? We're in the North, so what does he mean?_ She looked questioningly at Lady Liofrun, but she provided her with no answers. She only looked terrified.

Instead of answering the intruder, the priest started praying in rushed words. The man, whose hair was twisted on top of his head into a long talelike braiding, turned his head and spoke words that Frida easily recognized to be foreign, and whatever he said made the big men laugh out hoarsely.

Another giant stepped forward, and Frida exhaled deeply when she saw him pull up a villager of the crowd, Gotfried was his name, and quickly drew an axe to his throat.

"Treasure," the braided man said, "or death."

Half of the villagers screamed out in panic as Gotfried's throat was sliced right open, blood squirting out violently. Frida looked intently back at the priest, but to her dismay, he only continued praying now with his eyes closed.

She felt anger dwell in her stomach, as another man was pulled out of the crowd of villagers by a Norse, and she felt her hands twitch in irritation.

 _What is he doing?_ She thought, still eyeing the priest as if to communicate with him. God was not going to help them right now.

"Treasure," the man repeated louder, as if the priest had not heard him, "or death." The villager fell to the ground with his throat sliced open, gurgling, and Frida stared at him as the life left his eyes.

 _This has to stop!_

The priest fell down to his knees and held his folded hands up for God to hear him as another villager was pulled from the crowd. Frida could not help herself anymore. If the priest was not going to help his fellow men, well, then she was.

"Stop!" she screamed out as she rose to her feet, untangling herself from Lady Liofrun's hands that tried to prevent her from interfering.

As all the Norsemen's eyes fell upon her, she quickly turned to the priest so that her courage would not fail her just yet.

"Your Lord will not help you right now," she gasped at the priest, who opened his tear filled eyes to look at her, "Can't you see that these men are not afraid of Him?"

Lady Liofrun started sobbing loudly, as the braided man laughed out heartily and turned around to face Frida. The devilish man murmured something, probably questioning what she had said, and she stared at him angrily when the heavily braided man translated. Their language sounded soft but awkward, as if they all had food in their mouth.

All the Norsemen laughed when hearing what Frida had said, and the devilishly looking man spat on Gotfried's lifeless body. It had her blood boil with anger.

She felt the braided man's eyes on her, but she only faced the priest, saying: "Please, give them whatever treasure they so eagerly wants before more innocent blood is spilled."

She tried to speak fast to prevent their braided leader from understanding. She saw the priest slowly shaking his head.

"Wait," said the foreign man, "come here, girl."

Frida looked down on her feet. _Now, you're going to die._

Immediately, she felt a sudden warmth spreading through her body, a calm sensation dripping upon her heart and further down to her feet, forcing her to move forward to the terrifying Norseman. She could hear the villagers murmur silently between them, and she felt tears starting to wet her cheeks.

"You say 'your God'," the foreign man breathed inquiringly, "Is it not your God too?"

Frida closed her eyes, ready for her death. She had no answer to give him, because she did not know herself. She felt a giant hand clasp around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. A hideous smell hit her nostrils. Blood, unwashed human and dirt had her stomach turning.

"What is your name?" the Norse asked as he put his arms around her, too close for any stranger behaving in any decent respect.

The warm sensation filled her face, and she slowly opened her eyes to look at his face. A couple of icy blue eyes pierced through her, through her soul and into an even deeper layer of herself that she never knew existed. Her legs suddenly gave up on her, and she fell to her knees, her eyes still interlocked with his. Time seemed to stand still, the world seemed to have died out as she felt his intense stare, and she exhaled deeply.

She only managed to whisper a single word before her entire body collapsed: "All-father..."

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 **So, I know this end is kind of weird, but… I like it. And I hope you do too! Please let me know what you think**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you Silently Tearful for too having reviewed this! And to BeckTheProgram for all the support, LOVE IT! You guys are awesome :-D Now, Viking time!**

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Frida awoke to a soothing sound of water splashing close to her, a couple of ravens croaking out far above her, and a musky yet very comfortable smell surrounding her. She scooted herself even deeper down under the soft covers that Lady Liofrun had provided her with, and wondered what they were to have for breakfast. She hoped that the chickens had laid fresh eggs, but she knew that it might be wishful thinking. Their hen Crikith, that she had named her, was getting old and lazy, so eggs were a luxury these days.

She felt a couple of drops of water splashing on her face, and she sighed out. One drop quickly made its way to the corner of her mouth, and she stuck out her tongue to catch it. Salty.

That was weird.

But then it dawned on her.

In panic, she threw her eyes open and quickly sat up, heart achingly realizing that she was not in Lady Liofrun's house. She was not even near land anymore.

She tried to lose the covers but found her hands tied up as well as her feet. When she looked around her heart almost stopped. Thirty men or more sat before her, all lined up and rowing. She recognized one of them. Big and bearlike, with a great brown beard and dark eyes. The Norsemen...

She panicked even more, and she scooted around in her covers with blood rushing for her ears.

 _This is not happening, this is simply not happening._

A slithering voice, that made her blood freeze, called out from behind her: "Ragnar! Kom."

Frida looked to her left and let out a scream of surprise and terror when she saw the man, who looked like the Devil himself, right beside her. His eyes turned quickly to stare into hers. He sniggered demonically, and she felt her stomach turning, as she noticed him sitting with a knife in his hand. Death had not conquered her yet, but maybe what was coming was even worse.

 _Lord,_ she prayed for the first time in years, _if You are there, please, I regret every thought, exclamation or anything I ever did to anger You. Forgive me._

The words rang for her ears and it was not long before her body recoiled heavily. Acids sprayed from her mouth, and she tried to reach for the edge of the boat but was too late. She felt the devillish man shift away from her as she continued to vomit until she had nothing left in her stomach.

Nauseous, she turned her head up to look at a man who had placed himself in front of her. It was the heavily braided man. Ragnar, as she came to understand it.

He was smiling, as he said: "You should not be afraid of Floki, he is our joker."

Many of the Norsemen started laughing, Ragnar included, as she once again laid her eyes upon the Devil-man. She could feel her throat tightening and a prickling sensation at the corners of her eyes, as she watched the man named Floki take a bite from a black, salted fish.

"Here," she heard Ragnar say calmly, "drink."

The braided man named Ragnar handed her a weirdly shaped cup that she soon recognized to be the horn of some animal. A big animal. Only out of instinct did she reach for the cup and swallow its insides. A sweet but also stale taste spread out over her tongue, and her nose wrinkled automatically. The liquid was thick and sticky in her throat. Floki commented loudly on her reaction to the drink, causing the Norsemen to laugh at her once more. The fluids made her stomach bubble, just like wine always did, but this felt nicer and soother.

"Where am I?" Frida croaked and took another sip of the sweet horn.

Ragnar smiled at her and sat down beside her, putting his arm on the fabric covering her.

 _Fur,_ she thought to herself, _really, really thick fur._

"The question is not where you are, but where you are going, yes?" Ragnar expressed with a smug smile as he looked out over the boat's edges and to the great sea before them.

Frida let her eyes fall down and swallowed loudly. Out of the corners of her eyes she could see that there was not only one boat, but many boats. And many Norsemen.

"Yes," she managed to say with much effort.

Ragnar did not answer her. He just sat there staring out over the horizon, at nothing in particular. After a while, he breathed: "I have questions too."

And then he pierced her with his blue crystal eyes. They pierced right through her and gnawed at the back of her skull, making her dizzy. She felt the same warm sensation from back in the church spreading through her system, like cauldron smoke filling up a room. But this time, she did not become unconscious, however, she was still unable to break her eyes away from his.

She thought about Lady Liofrun and all the other villagers. _What happened to them? What happened to me? WHY am I here?!_

"We killed not the woman who cried for you," Ragnar said as if he knew what she was thinking, "We spared many lives. But we killed the priest. For he was a coward."

Ragnar broke their eye contact as he turned his head to look at Floki, and Frida exhaled deeply. Thankfully. She had no idea how come this man's eyes had such an effect on her. What had happened in the church?

She could not recall much, only that she had walked up to him with a strange warm feeling pounding through her veins, and when she had looked him in the eyes... _Blackness._

"But you," Ragnar continued curling his lips, "You are not a coward."

Frida looked at him with her brows furrowed. She did not understand this man's thinking. _Have they brought me here because I was brave? How on Earth does that make me anything special?_

"But," she started out, but she was soon interrupted by Floki who hissed out angry foreign words at her, making her shut her lips quickly in obedience.

She might not know what the man was saying, but he surely did not like her saying it. Ragnar reached out and put a hand on Floki's arm while speaking to him, soothingly. It sounded as if Ragnar was trying to convince Floki of something, to remind him. But of what she had no idea.

Ragnar stood up before reaching out his hands with something for her to take. Her stomach churned as she received a black salted fish that still was intact, its dead eyes staring at her, and she looked back up at Ragnar while feeling her mouth water up like it always does before you vomit.

"Eat," he soothed, "There is still a long way to Kattegat."

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 **I am really excited about this story, I hope you guys are too! I'm looking forward to her seeing Kattegat for the first time. Let me know what you think :-)**


	4. Chapter 4

When Ragnar told her that there still was a long way to the destined place called Kattegat, she had never imagined how long of a distance he was talking about. But as the sail continued to flutter above her head, Frida's strength grew weaker and weaker.

If she turned her eyes to the sea, the endless miles and miles of open sea, she immediately started crying. She felt like 'Kattegat' was an imaginary place, like they maybe had chosen the wrong route at some point, and now they were just sailing into a great openness of nothing. If she, however, turned her eyes to the inside of the boat, she felt like crying too.

Never in her life had she come across men like these; they were as hard-working as any mother would take pride in, as stubborn as any father would regard with envy, and as outwardly disgusting as any savage would wrinkle their nose at.

She had seen Christian men being tossed off the boat, lifeless and stone cold, when their faith had left them. She had seen men relieving themselves off the railing, if it was not from one end of their body, it was from the other. And she had seen them rowing with a look of never ending determination across their faces.

She wondered what kind of kingdom awaited her on the other side of the ocean. Would there be castles, kings and queens like in England? Would their land be filled with lush greens? She stared at a red bearded Norseman who was sleeping soundly, resting his back on the mast, hugging his axe tightly.

 _Probably not,_ she thought to herself, _Why would they then have felt the need to travel such a long way for mere gold?_

Frida felt another rush of damp warmth spread between her legs, and she frowned deeply as she clasped her legs tighter together. This was the first time in many months that she had bled, and she wondered why her body suddenly showed signs of fertility again, out here on the sea, with very little food and drink, and where it was almost impossible to wash yourself up without having hundreds of male eyes clinging to you.

She could smell her own filthy body, especially now that blood was clotting between her legs, and she felt embarrassed and impatient about her situation. She could do nothing but wait. She was a prisoner.

Frida felt like crawling into herself as she saw Ragnar making his way down from the high pole on the mast, and she scooted herself farther down under her big fur when he closed the distance between them and sat down beside her.

"We will reach Kattegat in a few days," he calmly stated as if it had not been days since they last had exchanged words.

Frida did not answer him.

She had not spoken since Floki had silenced her. She felt tears of relief wetting her cheeks, but she made no move to hide them. Her courage was almost broken. She felt his eyes trying to grasp hers, but she turned her face away from him, away from his piercing blue stares and his curling lips.

"I have answered your question, now you owe me an answer to mine."

"Frida," she shivered, still looking away, avoiding the warm sensation that she always got when his eyes were on her.

She felt his hand quickly stroking the fabric covering her head before he got up and left her alone again.

 _Alone,_ she thought, _Never had she been this alone._

 _..._

A loud thunder slashed the heavens above them, waking Frida from the restless sleep she had fallen in, and she quickly discovered that her surroundings had changed remarkably.

The boats were still encircled by water, but it was very dark and heavy drops of rain were soaking everything and everyone on the boats. The dark grey clouds were quickly lit as a bolt of lightning reached down to touch the waves, followed by an enormous thunder growling angrily. She heard Floki's demonic laughter behind her, and she looked up to see him reaching up towards the skies at the front of the boat, yelling out in Norse.

Even though she was sleep deprived, Frida felt the need to stand up too, suddenly more awake than she had ever been since she got on the boat. The rain felt good on her skin, cold, clinging and fresh, and she smiled for the first time in what felt like ages as her knees did not give in from the sudden weight as she got up on her feet.

Another lightning and thunder had her jump nervously, and the uneasy movements of the boat made her grasp the railing not to fall. She felt like energy poured into her as another lightning crossed the sky, and she heard herself laugh out as she was almost knocked down to the wooden planks beneath her that creaked and croaked because of the harshness of the angry sea beneath them.

"Girl!"

Big hands grabbed her shoulders, but before they could pull her down, she quickly untangled herself from their grip. She laughed out at the owner of the big hands and she saw that it was the same bearlike man who had killed Gotfried that now tried to save her from being tossed to the sea. But she had never felt more alive.

She launched herself closer to the front of the boat, and she heard Floki scream manically: "Thor!"

Frida positioned herself just below Floki, her face turned upwards to feel hard rain drops almost dig into her skin, and that was when she noticed the small lights across the waves.

Could it be true... Were they... Had they reached Kattegat?

The too familiar warm sensation filled her stomach as she realized that the lights were coming closer and closer, and she joined Floki in his celebration. She almost did not notice the Norsemen behind her yelling out too, laughing, while quickly working to get the sail down so they would have control over their speeding vessel.

"Thor!" Floki cried once more, now sentimental, before he looked down to squeeze his eyes at her, and then turned to woo out once more to the village that only came closer and closer. Frida could not wait to place her feet upon solid land again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Finally, she has made it to Kattegat. Thanks to kitty for the review - I hope you're all liking my OC ;-) Hugs!**

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Frida had been told that she had to get some rest before nightfall, as a big feast was being held for the return of the Norsemen to Kattegat. Not long after they had anchored at the harbor, she had been forced into a rather large wooden house, and further into a room in the back that consisted of only a bed, a fireplace, and a large wooden bowl that Frida recognized to be a tub for bathing.

She was oblivious to what time of the day they had arrived, and after what felt like a few hours she had risen to find it still dark outside, not raining nor thundering anymore.

Her sleep had been troubled. Her body had not yet been accustomed to solid ground, and she felt herself swaying from side to side as if she was still hovering over the waves in the boat. Her muscles were sore while her stomach empty, resulting in a slight pain stabbing the right side of her head, but she was still thankful for the journey to be over.

It was not long before a servant of some sort entered her room, and even though the language was a great obstacle, Frida had understood what she wanted her to do.

Bathe.

The relief of being clean had improved her mood drastically, and she was now sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, and waiting for the servant to bring her some clothes. Frida could easily hear Norsemen and women chattering on the other side of the walls of the room, their intonation coming off as cheerful and exhilarated, and she felt a bubble of nervousness starting to grow in the pit of her stomach.

She started mindlessly to pull her fingers through her long golden hair which had been hidden away under covers for several weeks, and therefore it was tangled like the roots of a bush, all the while her mind wandered. Naturally, she still did not know why the Norsemen had brought her to their home, but after having sat on that boat for so many days and nights, ignoring all her needs and wishes for an explanation, she had given up.

Her life had been put in the hands of these wild men, these men of the North, and in some regards she felt like there was a meaning to it all. Of course, she had never really believed in life being fated, determined by a certain force here on Earth, but her unexplainable calm and warmth still had her telling herself that she was never meant to stay in Northumbria. That she had never really belonged there.

A creaking sound by the door to her room had Frida looking up, and a woman that she had never seen before entered, carrying a bundle of fabrics, hopefully, clothes for Frida to wear. The woman closed the door behind her, and her eyes met with Frida's.

Frida felt her blood starting to rush. This was a Norse woman, she could tell clearly, by her length and posture and her long white hair that was braided beautifully over her scalp. Her eyes reminded her of someone she had not spoken to for a long time, almost shining with motherly affection, as she opened her red lips to speak out.

Her voice was beautiful and welcoming, as she said: "Here, take these," and held out the fating red fabrics in her hands.

Frida reached over to receive them, and she quickly tossed the dress over her head, covering herself.

"Thank you," she pressed, and she almost felt herself tearing up yet again at the sight.

The dress was beautiful, almost like from another world, and it fell over her chest charmingly, showing off more skin that would be proper where she came from. The hems were small and neat, almost invisible, and the sleeves were decorated with remarkable suture that reminded her of something only queens and princesses wore back in her homeland.

"Sit," the woman commanded as she pointed back to the bed, and Frida quickly followed her instructions.

The white haired woman took only two strides to reach the bed as well, and she sat down beside her. To Frida's surprise, she pulled out a strange looking device that she soon came to realize was a comb for her hair. After a while of painfully having her hair combed and braided, Frida reached up her arm to take a hold of the woman's.

"What is your name?" she asked almost in a whisper, as she did not know how well this woman managed her language.

The woman smiled sweetly, showing her pearly white teeth that would make any English queen envious, before she continued her braiding.

"Lagertha," she soothed before she let one braiding of Frida's hair fall down to her chest only to continue on another, "You are Frida, correct?"

Frida nodded. This was one of the most stunning women she had ever seen in her life, and it made her shift nervously in her seat.

"Know that tonight, they are questioning you," Lagertha said calmly, "My ex-husband is interested in you."

Frida felt herself blush slightly, and she did not know how to answer a statement like that.

 _Ex-husband?_ Frida thought to herself. That was not exactly a term you heard very often in Northumbria, as the bond of marriage was an expression of eternal companionship between a man and a woman. It was only the rich who had the right of separating a marriage; another hypocrisy of the Christian faith.

She gulped down as she heard Lagertha chuckle harmoniously.

"What questions?" Frida inquired charily, gratified that Lagertha let the last braid of Frida's hair fall down on her chest, "And what Nors… uh, man is that?"

Lagertha got up from the bed only to return with a pair of reddish brown leather shoes in her hands, which she smilingly offered her. Lagertha sighed out with a smug smile on her face, saying: "King Ragnar Loðbrók was always fascinated by the foreign and yet unfamiliar," she smiled, "but he feels that you are not so different from us after all."

And with those words Lagertha rose to her feet, put her hand below Frida's chin and lifted her face to let their eyes meet, and she silently whispered 'Be proud' before she left Frida alone in the room, confused and even more nervous.

 _King?! King Ragnar Loðbrók?! He was a king of this land?_

She would never have guessed it, and she twisted her hands in her lap as she felt her heart beat faster by every minute passing by.


	6. Chapter 6

Frida soon grew irritated by the fact that she did not understand the Norse language.

As soon as she had entered the great hall of the long wooden house, a humming murmuring had spread through the Norse crowd of men and women that stood around the fireplace at the center of the room, and she knew very well that the silent conversation regarded her presence. She immediately felt as if she was back on the boat again, with hundreds of eyes observing her every move. A sensation of being very much out-of-place had her heart beating heavily, afraid of what might happen to her.

She knew nothing of these people, their way of life, or their reaction to strangers.

 _That isn't really true though,_ she thought to herself as she let her eyes search the crowd for at least one familiar face, _Their way of dealing with the Northumbrians was not necessarily open-minded._

Only just as she recognized Lagertha's white braided hair, a loud roaring broke out between the Norsemen, and Frida almost collapsed in surprise. Between the foreign words being shouted out, she recognized Ragnar's name, and she saw them all raise their drinking horns towards the back of the room where Ragnar had walked in, and she stared in wonder as he placed himself on a big wooden chair that was covered in soft furs, before too raising a drinking horn and smiling out over his people.

 _His people,_ she thought, and she frowned when she comprehended how lacking her respect towards him had been ever since they had met. _However_ , she thought as the crowd's praising lowered, _They haven't exactly treated me with much respect either_.

She had been kidnapped, taken against her will, and now she found herself fearing for her future in this foreign land where she understood only a few people. Frida shyly tried to get a better look of Ragnar through the tall crowd, and she observed that on the stool next to him sat a couple of young white haired boys that were grinning at the many Norsemen before them.

She gulped down when she saw the fatherly affection in Ragnar's eyes when he looked at them, and it was not long before she recognized them to be his sons.

She felt pearls of sweat springing out on her forehead. The room was very heated, and there was very little air coming in through the narrow windows at the roof of the building. The smoke produced by the great fire in the middle of the room had her throat constricting achingly. When Ragnar finally rose to his feet to speak, the crowd silenced in respect.

Frida did unsurprisingly not understand a single word that he was saying, and her mind wandered back to the conversation that she had had not long ago with Ragnar's ex-wife Lagertha.

 _I wonder,_ she thought toherself, _What reasons these Norsemen have for separating from their spouse?_

Surely, any woman in the world would not want to run away from the role of being queen, and especially not with such a king at her side. He was very handsome indeed, Frida could not deny that, and she had observed how Lagertha's eyes looked to be full of pride when she cheered for her king in the crowd.

Suddenly, Lagertha's eyes met with hers, and Frida quickly tore her stare down at the ground before her. It was none of her business.

A slow male whisper sounded in her ear, and she inhaled quickly, when familiar English words reached her: "It is alright, he will not harm you."

She confusedly looked around to see an average heightened man with brown wavy hair stand behind her, his eyes smiling warmly at her, before she felt hands grab her arms and pull her forward. Frida was horrified when she understood that Ragnar had been talking about her, and she felt her blood rushing for her ears as she was pulled closer and closer to the king sitting on what probably was his throne.

A rush of excitement sounded through the crowd when Frida was pushed out in front of everybody, but when she looked up to see the many gazes on her, they were not all friendly. Actually, they all looked angered, and one man even spat on the ground before her.

She felt bewildered, incapable of moving, as fear had frozen her limbs and will to do anything. Ragnar's voice sounded right above her, and she could not help but to feel a slight pinch of relief when she felt his heavy hand on her shoulder. He continued speaking in Norse, and Frida closed her eyes, as she heard her name being pronounced several times.

He was deliberating her fate.

She made a nervous jump when he shifted to English, entertainment shining from his eyes when he asked: "Frida, I am not sure what to do about you."

He chuckled. She shivered.

"Your blood is Christian, but somehow your... soul?" Frida saw him exchanging a quick look with the English-speaking man in the crowd before continuing, "seems not like the rest of them. Like Athelstan here," he pointed at the English-speaker once more.

Frida furrowed her brows in confusion. She had no idea where Ragnar was going with this.

"Tell me, why did you mention one of our great gods back at the English church?"

She widened her eyes. She did not recall anything about pronouncing the name of any god.

She turned her head to let herself gaze into Ragnar's blue crystals that always had her feeling very warm and brave. Ragnar pulled back his hand from her shoulder, and lifted them up in the air with a wide grin on his face.

"Why!" he roared, "were you celebrating our god's work on our homecoming when you know nothing of him?"

Frida stared at her feet. A growing feeling started at the pit of her stomach.

She might have an idea of where Ragnar was going with his questions, however, she was as confused about it all as Ragnar. She remembered the warm feeling that had held up her courage in the church, and she too remembered the energetic pulse that had streamed through her blood on the boat, when the thunderous weather had roared about them. She just had no idea that the Norsemen connected these emotions to a god.

She cleared her throat before whispering: "Because I felt them..."

Ragnar sprang back to her side and leaned his ear closer to her mouth, dramatically.

The warm feeling spread through her blood once more, and she repeated her words even louder now: "Because I felt them!"

Ragnar laughed out and turned around to toast with a fellow Norseman. As he translated, Frida dared only to stare down at her feet. His Norse words sounded exhilarated and wild, and his speech had some of the villagers in the crowd shout out the word "Skål!"

Applauding and merry yelling made Frida finally turn her eyes up on the crowd before her, and she quickly felt arms wrapping around her, while Ragnar's soothing voice sounded in her ear: "Welcome to Kattegat."

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 **Please, let me know what you guys think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I had not expected so many readers! Thank you all for your awesomeness! I love it – it really keeps me going :-)**

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She might not particularly fancy their rude staring, or their manners at the table, nor the fact that young children were allowed to drink mead with their food, but sweet Heavens did she love their foods.

Frida had to restrain herself from overeating as she sat at a small table tucked away at the right corner of the long-hall feasting together with some Norsemen that she believed to be Ragnar's servants. On her wooden plate laid the remnants of fluffy walnut bread coated heavily with creamy buttermilk cheese and parsley, eggs in brine, or 'solæg' as they called them, something she had learned from one of the male servants, who she suspected to be a cook, and what had been a heavy portion of delicious soup that contained smoked lamb and many different herbs and greens.

She patted her stomach with a big smile as she put down her spoon, and she could not help but to sigh out in satisfaction when she turned in her seat, looking over at the longtable where many of the men that she had shared boat with sat. It seemed like Floki had taken the responsibility of being the night's entertainment, because he was currently swaying across the wooden table, babbling drunkenly away in Norse while swinging his axe in all directions. Many of the men laughed, and Frida found herself weaving mindlessly from side to side in step with the music that was being played by a couple of men behind the wooden throne in the back of the room.

She felt surprisingly good given the fact that she was situated in a land far away from her home, but she too felt a slight pinching at the edges of her heart when her thoughts fell upon Lady Liofrun. She wondered what she was doing, what time of the day it was in Northumbria at the moment, and she dared not to even guess at how much her Lady was thinking about her.

 _If only she knew how well I am,_ Frida thought as she took another sip of mead from her horn. It tasted like summer, honey and berries.

It was not long before the servants rose to their feet and began their work, rushing back and forth with their hands full of plates and foods, never losing the smiles on their faces. Frida suddenly wondered whether she was meant to help them.

Was she a servant too?

A cooling nervousness plastered across her cheeks when she found herself alone at her table, and she quickly began searching the room with her eyes to find someone, anyone, who would be able to speak her language. She was surprised to see that the long-hall was no longer as crowded as it had been during their feast, almost all the children had left together with many of the women, and the fire was almost nothing but burning embers.

When Frida dazedly let her eyes wonder to Ragnar's seat she hissed out in shock as she saw him staring at her, and she instantaneously rose to her feet.

She had no idea where she was going, but she could tell by his hard stare that she was supposed to be doing something else than sitting there, enjoying herself.

Why had they not informed her about her duties? Her chores?

She found herself grabbing one of the bearing columns to stabilize herself, her head dizzy from drinking mead all night. Did these people never drink water?

The cool night air felt good on her skin, and she let her lungs get filled with clean air before she took a look around. Kattegat was not a small town but she would never have guessed it to be a place for the king to live. It just seemed so… ordinary. There were no high structures here, no stone walls, not even paved roads.

"You should be careful out here," a familiar voice spoke from behind her, "You never know what is lurking in the dark."

Ragnar was standing by the entrance to his hall, leaning his shoulder casually against the door frame. The light coming from inside the house made it difficult for her to see his face. She did not know whether he was angry at her for having sat in there all night.

"Uh," she started, looking down at her hands, "I, uh… You should tell me what to do."

She heard him chuckle breathily and out of the corner of her eyes she saw him crossing his arms over his chest.

"I just did."

Frida slowly shook her head.

"No," she said, "I mean, you should tell me what chores I am responsible for, what my duties are. I am your servant, am I not?"

Ragnar frowned at her words, and she felt his eyes grow hard, all the amusement quickly leaving them.

"Have I treated you like a slave?" he asked in a light voice, and she confusedly watched him reach his hand up to chew on the nail of his thumb.

She shrugged her shoulders and wrapped her arms around her torso as an icy breeze sailed past them. "I guess," she breathed, "all I want to know is why I am here."

Ragnar closed the distance between them and wrapped one of his arms around her, slowly pulling her back towards the door.

"You are here," he explained as they entered the warm long-hall once more, "because I want you to be."

Ragnar's face instantly lit up as they reached the longtable, and he pulled out a stool for her to sit on before too sitting down next to her. Frida felt annoyed by his answers.

It was as if he never really explained himself properly, like he avoided telling her something. And she thought that a reasonable account for her kidnapping was nothing more but fair, but as she felt the stares from the other men sitting around the table, she made no further attempts to make Ragnar explain himself. It would have to wait.

"Skål,"growled the man to her left, and she looked to see the bear-like man waving his horn in front of her face while smiling widely through his thick dark beard.

"Skol?" she tried out, but her tongue failed her miserably, causing small chuckles to sound from the ones sitting closest to them.

"I," rumbled the man, "'m Rollo, brother."

And he nodded his head at Ragnar who smiled down into his horn. Frida smiled at Rollo, a bit forged, as she too well remembered how frenzied his eyes had been when he cut open the throat of Gotfried. She raised her horn like him and drank heavily from her cup.

She had to put it behind her.

Even the mere thought of having him as her enemy sent shivers down her spine. Never in her life had she seen a bigger man. His shoulders were broader than two male Northumbrian's combined, his hands were like spades, and his chest was more muscular than that of a great bull's. All the men around the table were giants compared to her, and she thoughtlessly leaned herself a bit closer to Ragnar recalling the words of the English-speaking man named Athelstan.

"He will not harm you," he'd said. Not 'they.'


	8. Chapter 8

The night proved to be very learning for Frida.

She already knew how to say 'thank you,' 'my name is…' and other small phrases that had her tongue curl around in her mouth in a weird manner. She even sometimes thought to have swallowed it. At first, she had been disappointed that the man named Athelstan had not joined them. She was very intrigued in getting to know more about him, mainly because she knew that his name was popular between those of the middle class in Northumbria, and also because she wanted to ask him whether he would be interested in teaching her the Norse language.

The Vikings, another name for this race of men, were namely not very courteous when it came to her not understanding them. Only Ragnar, _King Ragnar,_ she corrected herself, was kind enough to translate for her at times, but there were occasions in which she got the feeling of being the subject of conversation where Ragnar chose not to let her hear whatever they were saying. Particularly Floki seemed to have much to say about her, but whenever he talked to her and she turned her head questioningly to Ragnar, he only shook his head and smiled before drinking from his horn.

This aggravated her. Ever since she first laid her eyes upon Floki, she had felt an unnerving tension gather in her chest every time he would look at her, and it was of no comfort that his gaze always looked rigid, even hateful it seemed, when he spoke to her.

But she could only smile at him, helplessly, whenever he spat words in her direction. She had no interest in making enemies here.

Frida giggled when a man named Torstein and the one sitting next to him drunkenly warbled a really clumsy song with their arms around each other, resulting in them both falling from their stools. All the men around the table laughed like bears, they really reminded her of bears, and she reached her horn up to her mouth but found it to be empty already.

"Here," Ragnar sloshed as he held out a wooden bucket with mead for her to fill her horn, and she reached it over inelegantly with her eyes swimming in her head.

She saw Ragnar looking at her, but not at her face, and when she followed his gaze she realized that he was inspecting her chest. She quickly straightened herself, suddenly very self-aware of how revealing the red dress was, and she let her eyes fell upon her chest too just to be sure that nothing was… falling out, or anything.

The dress hugged her figure very charmingly, that was for sure, and it was very tight over her breasts which made them appear even fuller than they actually were. She exhaled deeply before letting her eyes meet with Ragnar's, and she watched him curl his lips into a smug smile before he took another sip of mead while raising his eyebrows quickly at her.

Frida turned her head to stare at the wood planks of the longtable, blushing heavily. A bubbling heat spread out from the pits of her stomach, and not being able to contain herself, she gazed at him once more.

His skin was very rough, tanned by the rays of the sun, and his chin was covered by a great beard as was the norm here in Kattegat, obviously. His shoulders were broad, and his arms looked strong, and he moved always delicately, deliberately, like a hunting feline closing in on its prey. But what Frida liked the most about this man was his eyes. Almond-shaped and icy blue, like the skies on a clear summer day, and she felt another rush of heat pumping through her veins as he leaned in to let his hand softly touch her knee and sway gently up her thigh.

Frida had to remind herself to continue breathing, and she looked up at the men around them to see if anyone had seen anything. To her relief, the Vikings surrounding them were all too busy with drinking and chatting to notice a thing, and she felt Ragnar's eyes on her from behind, piercing at the back of her head.

She gulped down.

She had never found herself in a situation like this. Her cheeks were on fire, as was her blood, and an unfamiliar tingling sensation between her legs made her breathing staggered, uneven, as she once more felt Ragnar's fingers on her skin, now brushing her arm. An overwhelming eagerness of wanting to touch his skin too had her shifting in her seat, and she heard Ragnar chuckle silently behind her, as if he knew what he was doing to her body.

Frida had never lain with a man before, she had never even felt the desire of doing so, and she had absolutely no idea what it entailed.

She awoke from her daze when she felt her horn being taken away from her, and she looked up to see Rollo refilling it and handing it back to her with a sneaky smile.

"Just… enjoy yourself," he managed to say before a Viking with blond hair grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to his feet while grinning teasingly.

It seemed like he challenged him at something, and it was not long before the two men left the long-hall punching each other's arms rather hard. As she took another sip from her horn, she felt her throat tighten. _Enough mead,_ she thought and put down her horn on the table, before running her hand over her eyes.

She was not prepared for the eyes Ragnar was giving her when she turned her head to look at him. They were filled with hunger, a deep sort of hunger that made her bite her lip mindlessly as she took in the sight of him sitting there, casually leaned against the armrest of his chair looking at her from behind his horn. She giggled nervously when he did not say anything and just looked at her with his eyes narrowed, his legs nonchalantly resting on the table before him.

Their eye contact only broke when Floki came up to him, and bent over to whisper something in his ear while eyeing Frida like she was something revolting It seemed like Floki was trying to convince Ragnar of something, but Ragnar only waved him off as he smilingly growled something in Norse. An aggravated hissing sound spat out from Floki's lips before he strove quickly across the room to exit through the door.

Frida jumped in her seat when she felt Ragnar's fingers intertwine with hers, and he reached over, his mouth dangerously close to her ear, so close that she could feel the heat of his skin on hers. Her nose caught his scent, and she closed her eyes as a musky perfume filled her nostrils.

"Come," he purred, and his voice made her skin prickle teasingly and sent shivers down her spine.

Ragnar rose to his feet before he pulled at her arm for her to rise too, and Frida's eyes met with Torstein's who just grinned at her before raising his horn, as if saying goodnight.

She obediently followed the Norse king as he led her through the long-hall, past his wooden throne and in through a door. The room that he led her into was beautiful, only lit by candles, but she easily recognized it to be his sleeping place, as he released her hand before sitting down on a large bed that stood in the center.

Insecurity had her lips tremble as she saw his eyes travel over her body, studying her, and she closed her eyes as another wave of heat exploded in the pits of her stomach. She had no idea what to do next, her thoughts raced, and she heard Ragnar get up from the bed and walk towards her.

She held her eyes closed, even when she felt his breath on her face and smelled the sweetness of the mead he had been drinking. She did not know what he was going to do to her, all she knew was that she too felt the hunger that had shone from his eyes back at the longtable.

"Hm," she heard him breathe out, before she felt his calloused fingers stroke her chin and she could not help but to whimper softly when they brushed her lips delicately.

When she thoughtlessly kissed his thumb, because she could do nothing else, Ragnar reached his arms around her, and she hissed out in excitement when she felt his strong hands grab at her bottom, crashing his body against hers. Her mind exploded, as did a strange wetness between her legs, and she let her mouth travel across the naked skin of his neck. She could do nothing while he had his strong arms around her. Ragnar knew very well what he wanted.

When he filled his seeds inside of her, he whispered out the name "Freyja."


	9. Chapter 9

A man was walking towards her.

Shadows around his face made it impossible for her to see who he was, but she had a feeling of having met him before, a long time ago. He was holding a wooden instrument in his right hand on which two ravens sat, one of them looking at her and the other at the elderly man at its side.

Roaring wind deafened her yells. She wanted him to hurry, she wanted him by her side, as her deep solitude in the darkness stabbed at her flesh, leaving deep and bloody traces over her skin. The raven looking at her croaked that she should not fear, and when it spread its wings to fly over to her sit on her shoulder, tears swelled up in her eyes and a soothing warm sensation filled her stomach.

The old man came closer, and now she could see that he wore a long grey beard, and on top of his head sat a farmer's hat. She knew that when she finally would touch him, her life would be complete. She would doubt no more, never question his actions, and she would finally reach her home. But he was just still too far away.

A sudden ray of light flashed across the skies above them, causing both ravens to fly up flurriedly, and she caught a glimpse of the old man's face.

Shock washed over her as she saw that he only had one eye, and that eye was like an icy blue crystal, piercing right into her soul.

Frida woke up.

She flew up on the bed and chaotically looked around to see where she was. She was sweating, as if she'd just ran a hundred miles, and her heart beat acted likewise. She was still in Ragnar's bed, but she was alone in his room, and she could tell by the way the sun light shone through the sole window at the Eastern wall that it was close to mid-day.

While her blood was still rushing, she dressed herself silently in the same dress from yesterday before peeping out through a crack in the door to see if anyone was out in the hall.

 _Perfect,_ she thought when she did not see nor hear anyone, and she tiptoed quickly around the corner before peeping into the long-hall, which she annoyingly had to pass before being able to leave the house.

She had to get some air, she had to wash the dream off herself, and she did not wish to speak to anyone before doing so, especially not Ragnar. But to her great dismay, the long-hall was not empty. Around the longtable sat more than ten Norsemen including both Ragnar, Floki, Rollo, Torstein, and others whose names she could not remember.

She heard Lagertha's voice ring out as she gulped down. It sounded like she was angry, but Frida did not have the time to find out why.

She just wanted out.

Panic flushed over her when she saw one of the servants coming her way, and without thinking she entered the long-hall with her blood racing through her veins and her eyes locked on the ground. Lagertha's voice quickly died down as Frida made her way across the room, but Frida was determined on her path, and she did not stop to greet the Vikings at the table. She felt Ragnar's eyes on her, but she had not yet the courage to gaze into them as her strange dream was still too fresh in her memory, the old man's blue eye still burning in the back of her head.

When she finally reached outside, she started running. She flew past several wooden houses, villagers and animals, with only one thought in her mind: She had to reach the forest, and she did not stop for anything or anyone on her way there.

She crashed herself through the bushes and only stopped when she felt the shadows of the big tree crowns upon her skin. She threw herself on the ground while panting heavily, a slender pain throbbing at her temples because of last night's drinking.

The forest was very silent.

She could only hear the sounds of small birds chirping above her and a quiet wet gurgling from a small stream that ran across the lush forest floor nearby. The clean water of the stream did wonders. She filled her stomach with it and also sprayed it over her face as her breathing stabilized. This was exactly what she needed.

"What on Earth is so urgent out here?" she heard a male voice speak out behind her.

Frida quickly turned around and realized the English-speaker Athelstan had followed her. He had very different features compared to the rest of the villagers, and she had wondered to herself if he really was Viking, but his clothes and hair looked so Norse that she had pushed that thought out of her head again.

Frida shrugged her shoulders before looking down on her hands that were already colored by the black soil that she was sitting on.

"I'm Athelstan," he spoke, and she looked up to see him reaching out his hand at her.

She mumbled out her name while shaking hands with him, and he sat down on a rock close to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked humbly.

She furrowed her brows at him. This man was indeed different than the others, she could tell by his air. She nodded before looking into the stream again, the water gurgling happily past them.

"I, uh," she chirped, "I had a sort of nightmare. I think."

When Athelstan did not answer she looked up to see him smiling at her, questioningly.

She cleared her throat before she continued: "In my dream, I saw an old man with only one eye. He just frightened me, I guess."

"Really?" Athelstan persisted, an intrigued tone to his voice.

Frida gazed up at him with her brows furrowing once more. A heartwarming smile spread across Athelstan's lips before he looked out over the dark green vegetation surrounding them.

"And what did this old man do to frighten you?" he asked.

Frida inhaled deeply while closing her eyes. He had not really done anything in her dream to upset her, it had been the fear of not reaching him that had scared her. And the strong resemblance of his one eye with Ragnar's blue crystals.

Athelstan's warm voice sounded once more: "Has Ragnar told you anything about the Norse gods yet?"

Frida shook her head. All she thought she knew about their religion was that it was strongly connected with the forces of nature. She felt Athelstan's hand on her shoulder.

"Come," he said, "and I'll tell you what I know about Odin, the All-father."

Somehow, her thoughts immediately raced back to the moment in which she'd looked into Ragnar's eyes for the first time, back at the church of her village in Northumbria. She rose to her feet before curiously following Athelstan back towards the village.

 _Odin,_ she thought to herself, _What do you want with me?_


	10. Chapter 10

Frida spent the whole afternoon with Athelstan.

Not only was he a very amiable person, he was also very clever and knew all sorts of things, not only about the Viking culture but also about the cultures of all sorts of countries she had not even heard of before she met him. She came to understand that before he was brought to Denmark just like she was, he had too lived in Northumbria, in a monastery as a religious man who transcribed the Holy Book. But as she watched him sit beside her, grinding the edge of his axe with a stone, she did not exactly see a whole lot of Christian in him.

"Can I ask you a rather personal question, Athelstan?" she asked while mindlessly pulling at the grass she sat on.

He smiled at her. "Of course."

She returned his smile. "Now that you are here, how is your relationship with the Lord?"

He sighed out with a curl on his lips and put down his axe. "Huh," he chuckled, "All I can say is that he does not show himself in these parts of the world as much as I'd liked."

Frida chewed on a straw while narrowing her eyes at him. She could see a small flash of pain crossing his eyes.

He shrugged his shoulders lightly. "And you?" he smiled, "How are you and the Lord coming along?"

Frida laughed out heartwarmingly. "We do not really," she chuckled, "Never have."

Athelstan's eyes widened. She explained to him how she had never in her life really felt the Lord's presence, and that she'd always felt abandoned by him in a country where everyone so firmly believed in his existence. She told him how hypocritical she had come to see the laws of the Lord, when the men that supposedly were closer to him misused their power over the poorer people. "That was never, I suppose, the way God wanted things, was it?" she mumbled.

"Well," sighed Athelstan, "Ragnar has what I regard to be a very clever saying about the men in power."

Frida jerked lightly at the mention of Ragnar's name. She mindlessly pressed her legs together. "Power, he says, attracts the worst and corrupts the best."

She weighed the words in her head.

"Does that go for him too, then?" she asked before she pulled out of her mouth the straw that she'd chewed on for quite a while.

Athelstan nodded his head at something behind her, and Frida turned her head to see Ragnar walking towards them.

"Yes, I believe so."

When Ragnar reached them, he pulled off a beautiful white fur and laid it on Frida's shoulders. Its warmth had her shiver, as the air was getting cooler, the night slowly creeping towards Kattegat.

Ragnar curled his lips into a quick smile, as he said: "'m glad to see the two of you are getting along. Is he teaching you our language?"

Frida turned to look at the ground, embarrassed that she had not even thought about asking Athelstan whether he wanted to teach her yet. They had just had so much else to talk about.

"No," Athelstan explained, to Frida's great relief, "We were discussing religion. It seems that Frida had a visitor this night."

Frida stared at Athelstan with big eyes and an open mouth, shocked that he would just reveal what she regarded to be something so very private. Of course, Athelstan had no reason to believe that Ragnar and Frida were not private, they had spent last night together. Frida gulped down before gazing into Ragnar's eyes.

"Is that so?" he asked in a serious tone, and he sat down on a wooden log next to Athelstan.

Frida did not know what to say. She did not even know whether she believed it to have been their god Odin whom she had seen in her dreams. It was just a dream after all.

Athelstan chuckled lightly before he got up on his feet. "I'll, uh, see you two at supper."

Frida watched his back as he marched down the small path that led to the fireplace where they had spent the afternoon. She heard Ragnar clear his throat. His air seemed kind of misplaced, as if he was nervous.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked almost in a whisper.

Frida turned her head to watch him while her lips curled into a puzzled smile. "For what?"

Ragnar shrugged his shoulders. "You are the woman, you tell me."

Frida laughed out and slapped her hand over his knee while he sent her innocent eyes. They sat there while smiling at each other for several minutes before Ragnar looked into the reddening sky and blinked.

"You believe there is a savior up there?" he asked, a certain graveness darkening his voice.

Frida watched his face and wondered how it must have felt to come from a country like this and enter England, where everyone suddenly believed in a religion so different from his own. She could not imagine it herself, as she had always thought the Lord to be a picture created by man for an earhtly purpose. If the Lord truly existed, his words were not used only in his intentions, that was certain.

"If there is, then he surely is very shy," Frida breathed, earning a slight curl to twist Ragnar's lips.

Frida felt kind of anxious to tell Ragnar about her dream. It was different with Athelstan, because his relationship with the Norse gods was still very new, but Ragnar… Athelstan had told her that it was rumored that he was a descendant of Odin. That would make him their faith's Jesus Christ, now, would it not?

She sighed out before pulling herself together.

"I saw a man," she whispered, "He came to me while I slept. He was accompanied by two ravens, and he only had one eye."

Frida closed her eyes when she saw Ragnar kneel down in front of her, his eyes intently staring at her face.

"What did he say?" he murmured eagerly, reaching his hand up to stroke over his beard. She could feel his eyes pierce at her skin.

"He never spoke a word to me. His raven did. It told me not to be afraid. It showed me that I would be home when I finally reached him. And then…"

She sank hard, shivering when she once more saw the face of the old man clearly in her head, as if she was dreaming all over again. She opened her eyes only to stare into Ragnar's, the resemblance between the two canny.

"And then, I saw his one eye. Your eye," she whispered, "in his skull."

Ragnar trembled before her, and she could see that he was thinking very hard, a cloudy film covering his eyes.

Frida grew impatient.

"Ragnar, what does it mean?" she surged with a shaky voice. She had a feeling that this was a serious matter.

"I do not know," he rushed before quickly jumping to his feet. "Come," he ordered while reaching his hand for her to take, "You have to talk to him."

"Who?" Frida inquired as she too rose.

"The Seer."


	11. Chapter 11

A hideous smell hit her nostrils when she stepped into the dark wooden house, confused and actually kind of frightened.

There was a very strange air around Ragnar that she had never felt before.

He had not explained anything to her. Who was this Seer? What was a seer?

Frida took small steps while carefully taking a look around her. Candles were spread aimlessly around on shelves, small tables and chairs, while weird strings filled with bones and herbs and dried out flowers hung down from the loft. A lazy fire was burning in a fireplace that curiously was not placed in the center of the room, as was usual here in Kattegat, she had noticed.

She saw that Ragnar had taken a seat on a stool at a table, and Frida slowly walked over to sit down beside him. And that was when she noticed him.

At the other side of the table sat someone, a cloaked figure in the shadows, and she felt her blood freeze and her eyes widening. His face…

His face was mutilated, wrong. Where his eyes should have been there was only pinkish flesh, his lips were swollen and black as the night, and he sat as silent as a rotten corpse.

Frida felt her knees shaking, and she quickly sat down before they would give up on her. She gazed over at Ragnar, hoping to get a comforting smile from him or maybe feel the warmth that his eyes would produce in her stomach, but he only looked very rigidly on the Seer, waiting.

Frida's skin turned into gooseflesh when she heard an unearthly grinning, and she turned her head in horror when she realized it came from the Seer. Her stomach turned when she felt his eyes on her, but she turned her face to stare into the table, too frightened to look him in the eyes. Or whatever she should call it.

"Ragnar," rattled the cloak in a watery voice, before he said something she did not understand.

She felt Ragnar look at her as he answered the man in Norse, and she promised herself that tonight she really had to ask Athelstan to teach her their language. This was a conversation all too important for a mere language barrier to be the problem.

She wanted to know every word that they were saying.

The cloaked man rattled through his throat longer this time, and she strained her ears eagerly to just pick up a few words. She was not surprised at the mention of Odin's name, but she jumped in her seat when Ragnar leaned over the table, closer to the Seer, and whispered something eagerly, a question forming on his lips. Frida turned in her eagerness to look at the Seer, hoping that she would in some way miraculously understand him, but she gasped in shock when she saw that the Seer too had turned his face towards her, an eerie smile curling his lips.

Frida gulped down, and she heard a low gurgling grin sounding from his throat.

But she suddenly felt her eyes to be locked on him, and while she could not move, the seer breathed one last sentence that contained another word that was familiar to her.

"Freyja."

She felt her heart stop for what seemed like forever, and she stared at the cloaked man as he reached out a white and boney hand at her. She looked at it in disgust. It was thin and gnarled, all of the fibers in her body stopping her from reaching out for it.

She felt Ragnar's hand on her shoulder. "Lick it," he whispered tenderly into her ear.

Frida felt her throat tensing, a warm portion of vomit slowly crawling up into her mouth. But Frida knew what she had to do. She turned her eyes only to stare into Ragnar's blue ones, earning her body to faithfully react like it always did when she gazed into the windows of his soul.

The hand tasted earthy, stale and filthy.

Just as Ragnar and Frida closed the door to the Seer's place, a deep voice greeted them happily, and Frida saw Rollo waving at them, walking over to wrap his hand around Ragnar's shoulder. Frida almost blushed when she saw the eyes he was giving her.

"Hm…" he smiled cunningly, raising his eyebrows in quick movements at her, "You like him, yeah?"

Ragnar hissed out in irritation, tossing Rollo's arm off him with a quick move.

"Where is Floki?" Ragnar spat, looking around them with a worried look on his face.

Rollo answered in Norse, causing Ragnar to strive off hastily. As Rollo turned around to look at Frida with a jumbled expression on his face, Frida was sure hers looked just the same.

When Rollo opened his mouth, Frida knew what he was going to say: "I don't know," she said, tears quickly swelling in her eyes.

It was not her intention to cry, especially not in front of Rollo, but she was so disconcerted by what she had just experienced that she could do nothing else.

What was the meaning of all this? Why was Ragnar acting so strange? Why had he just run off without letting her know anything?

She could see that she had Rollo feeling uncomfortable, and she hastily started to walk along the wall of the house with her legs shaking. It was not long before she was pulled to a halt, and she felt big bear arms reaching around her, her face soon buried in the black fur that covered Rollo's shoulders. He was… hugging her.

She stood with her arms lamely hanging down her sides, and when he released her, tears were streaming down her face. He bent down to put his hand up and stroke her chin softly with his thumb.

"Okay?" he mumbled, the concern genuine in his eyes.

She nodded before wiping her tears away. "Thank you," she smiled heartwarmingly before they accompanied each other to the long-hall.

Ragnar did not show himself on his throne before all the night's food nearly had been removed from the table.

He and Floki entered the long-hall, but Ragnar did not look at her, he simply walked over to grab a leg of a lamb and a horn of ale before plumping himself down on his stool. Frida looked over at Floki, and was surprised when she saw him looking at her over his horn while drinking heavily. There was something different in his eyes, something that did not really connect with the Floki she had come to know. His eyes were not filled with loathing or anger, but rather a blaze of curiosity shone from them.

Frida herself drank heavily from her horn, her heart pounding in her chest.

Why was she so different in this land? Why did she not understand the things that they did?

She felt irritation bubble in her blood as she gulped down the rest of her ale before filling her horn once more. Someone sat down beside her, but she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to realize who it was. It seemed like Ragnar deliberately avoided looking at her.

A big hand flared in front of her face, making her slide back into reality.

She looked at the owner of the hand, who was grinning at her. He was a young man with white blond hair and very blue eyes, and she felt like she knew him from somewhere.

"I'm Bjørn," he smiled as he nodded his head in Ragnar's direction, "Ragnar is my father."

Frida made big eyes as she recognized the strong resemblance between the two, and before long, Bjørn's calmness made her forget, even if it was just for some time, how much of a stranger she had felt herself to be in this land.


	12. Chapter 12

**I am very glad to hear that a lot of you are still reading this.**

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To her own great surprise, Frida actually enjoyed herself that evening.

She had talked a great deal with Bjørn, and Athelstan had joined them not long after dinner, and the three of them had just sat at a table, drinking ale and chatting. Frida had finally asked Athelstan if he would be interested in any way in teaching her Norse, and he had very eagerly agreed to it. Being able to speak Norse had for him, he told her, been essential in learning to adapt to the culture here in Kattegat. She looked very much forward to start her training.

Bjørn was surprisingly bad at speaking English for a guy who had gone raiding in England several times in his life and had lived with Athelstan as their household slave, which had come as a big surprise to Frida, but with Athelstan by her side, the three of them spoke freely. However, Frida still felt a certain sting in her heart, a growing impatience gnawing at her flesh when her mind wondered back to what had happened earlier at the Seer's. As she sat there between the two of them, she realized that she did not necessarily have to wait for Ragnar to ask questions.

So she filled both of the men's horns with ale, and smiled timidly at Bjørn, whose eyes were swimming because of all the malt in his blood, saying: "Bjørn, I'm really interested in your gods."

She saw him blink a couple of times at her, probably a bit taken aback at the sudden change of subject, before she continued, leaning closer to him. "I know that Odin is who you call the All-father, and that he is the gods of all the other gods. But I haven't gotten to know that much about the others… Who are they?"

She heard Athelstan chuckle sweetly, earning a hard look from Frida. She was hoping that Bjørn would reveal something to her that would make her understand her dream better, understand them better.

Bjørn shook his head with a curl on his lips. "I'm not really the best… to ask this," he struggled, his accent heavy, "But I can tell you, we have many gods. And they are alive, not," he nodded his head towards the sky, "like the Christian one. They are here, around us, in us. They can turn into animals, nature, or even dreams."

He raised his horn before chucking its contents down. Frida felt shivers on her skin, while Bjørn rose to his feet, announcing that he had to relieve himself. Just as Frida turned to Athelstan, a question for him already forming on her lips, his name was called out over from the long-table.

Frida looked over to see Ragnar waving him over while his eyes were on Frida's face. Athelstan rose to his feet, but Frida quickly took a hold of his hand before he started walking over there. "Please," she pleaded, "Don't leave me here alone."

Athelstan's eyes switched from her and to Ragnar. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon."

But he was not. After what felt like an hour's time, Frida still saw him sitting next to Ragnar, the king's arm swooped over his shoulder, keeping him in place. She was getting angry now.

What the Devil was Ragnar doing?! Why was he treating her like that, why did he make her feel so alienated, so alone?

She started biting her nail, swaying a bit from the ale pumping in her veins. She had to put an end to it.

While the musicians played a wild rhythm, she gained strength and finally got the courage to confront him. Ragnar did not look at her, obviously trying to avoid completely her presence in the room, but Frida did not mind. King or not, he was going to explain this to her. Now.

"King Ragnar Loðbrók, I demand to speak to you privately," she heard her voice flare out, anger dripping from its tone.

Frida saw him slowly turning his head up from his conversation with Athelstan to look at her, and her knuckles tightened.

"Now!" she spat, a seriousness to her voice that grave, it reminding her funnily enough of Floki.

An inept silence quickly spread around the closest Vikings around the table, all eyes on the couple at the end. Ragnar sent strange eyes to his fellow Norsemen before sighing out dramatically, like a child that is forced by his mother to go to bed.

Ragnar took long quick steps on his way to his bedroom, moving so fast that Frida could not keep up, and she suspected him for doing it on purpose. So the others would see her following him like a dog. She bit at the inside of her lip in anger.

When they both had entered Ragnar's bedroom, Frida slammed the door shut and turned to stare at him, trying her hardest to give a hard look that Floki could be proud of. To her dismay, Ragnar seemed indifferent to her straining though, his face rather calm and collected. She felt her blood boil over, and she walked over to him and pushed at his chest.

"You… You…" she tried, but she did not know how to express the feelings she felt raging in her heart.

She pushed him once more, but he did not budge even an inch. She was embarrassed when she felt tears swelling up in her eyes, and she screamed infuriatedly at him, punching him now as hard as she could.

He did not even blink at her blows. Frida did not know how to react to his behavior, she felt helpless, alien and betrayed. Her body collapsed, and she fell to her knees, sobbing loudly.

"Say what you need to say," Ragnar sighed above her.

Her heart was aching and tears were streaming down her face, all of her anger replaced by something worse.

Sorrow.

"Why did you bring me here? WHY did you take me on your stupid boat and row me over here, just to ignore me, exploit me, torment me? You make me feel so… alone!" she wailed out.

To her big surprise, she felt him kneel down beside her. She turned her face to his, letting him see how pained she was by his actions, but she was stunned when she saw his expression.

She was looking at a defeated face, a face of a man that was no king, no powerful and strong Viking, but a man who knew his weaknesses and was scared to admit them to anyone.

Ragnar let himself dump down on the floor, and he put his face between his hands. "My heart," he whispered very breathily, "is aching. I wish I could travel in time and let you stay with your family, in you land, and with your god. I wish," his voice cracked, "I wish only for you to be happy."

Frida's tears had stopped as she listened to his words.

He breathed.

"I did not like what I heard at the Seer's," he finally whispered.

Frida sank hard, her mouth suddenly dry like sand.

"I have brought you here for selfish reasons, and now…" She heard him whimper quietly, and she could not help herself from putting her hand on his shoulder.

 _And now, what? And now, WHAT?_

Ragnar shook his head in his hands, and Frida bent over to have her face close to his. "I want to know," she whispered tenderly into his ear, "Whatever it is, I just want the truth."

Ragnar finally lifted his face to stare into her eyes. "The Seer told me that you are a gift for me. A support, so to speak," he explained in a trembling voice, "from the gods. Odin…"

His throat seemed to close itself, but she could see that he struggled greatly to tell her. The croaking of a raven sounded above them, as if it was flying right above the roof of the house.

He inhaled, as he stuttered: "I think… I think you are my valkyrie, Frida."


	13. Chapter 13

"Your... valkyrie. What is that, Ragnar?"

Frida stared intently at his features.

The word sounded weird in her mouth, yet while Ragnar pronounced it once more, she came to like the very tone of it, the way his tongue curled at the 'r', and the way it almost sounded liquid, spellbinding.

"It is known that valkyries are the feminine creatures sent by Odin to our world to bring home warriors to Valhalla. Our, uh ... Heaven." He smiled with his eyes at her but soon dropped his face down between his knees.

Frida felt shivers run over her skin, and she too turned her eyes to the ground.

"Legend has it," he continued, "that they are deeply connected with the goddess Freyja, that they soothe and care for the warriors who will fight beside Odin when the time comes."

Frida's thoughts were dancing wildly inside her head. She did not see how any of this had anything to do with her, but she was intrigued, enchanted.

"Freyja?" she breathed in a whisper, feeling warmth raging through her veins as the name left her lips.

Ragnar lifted his head to look at her with wet eyes. His lips curled sweetly. "She is the goddess of fruitfulness. She prepares the soil for our crops, tenders it with love and fertility, and so she does with us people. She is the goddess of riches, of love, and of sex."

Frida felt her cheeks burn as his words snuck their way through her ear, and her body inhaled them like were they the sweet summer air of the heath that surrounded the village, its fragrance mollifying her entire person.

"Some men say that Freyja's valley was shared with another god, the one whom the valkyries come to with their warriors."

Frida's eyes widened as she realized the connection. "Odin?" she voiced lightly.

Ragnar nodded and closed his eyes. He was telling her this, Frida argued with herself, because it had some meaning for her dream. But she could not see how she could be a valkyrie. She had no connection with neither Freyja nor Odin. She had never even known they existed before she met Ragnar. But a hot thought gnawed at the back of her mind, that maybe she had always known that someone was looking at her, guiding her in her steps. But she had always thought it to be her mother's spirit, talking to her through her dreams, through the animals. Frida gulped.

"So..." she started, "The Seer thinks that I have come to you, to have you die and go to Odin and Freyja?"

Ragnar closed his eyes and she could hear him breathe out. "Floki thinks so. That is how he interprets it."

Frida rubbed her fingers at her temples, not quite understanding the true sense in this. But her body froze when she realized something. "Will I... will I die too then?"

Ragnar looked at her with hard eyes, and she felt her heart beat faster. He suddenly rose to his feet, and quickly strode over across the floor, staring into the small fire that was burning on the stones. She could see him clenching his fists.

"It is my fault," Ragnar said, "I never should have brought you with me."

Frida closed her eyes as a slinging pain crossed through her heart. She breathed deeply before rising to her feet too. "But was it not the will of the gods?" she asked.

It must have been. She remembered too well how a flaming heat had had her shout to the priest, to confront the Viking invaders, and move her legs up to Ragnar, where a huge force had hit her when she had looked into his eyes.

She heard Ragnar knocking his hand into the wooden wall beside him. "What do you know about the will of our gods?" he hissed at her, his fists clenching once again.

She took a couple of steps toward the angry Viking in front of her, his back towering at the fire, his braiding falling down over it like a weapon of his own.

"Nothing," she whispered, "but I know that I have always felt them somehow, that they have talked to me throughout all of my life. I realize that now."

Ragnar turned around to look at her, a confused wrinkle carving his forehead, "How is that possible?" he breathed, closing the distance between them and leaning his forehead against her, roughly.

Frida closed her eyes, his piercing blue ones too close, almost burning her. She felt him turning his head to look upwards, his forehead still pressed against hers. He reached up his hand to grab her gently by her shoulder, his fingers reaching over her throat, pressing gently down on it.

"I..." she whispered, but she was interrupted by Ragnar's lips crashing against hers, his beard raking the soft skin of her chin. She reached her arms around him, hurtling her body up against his, inhaling his scent deeply. With one hand near her throat, he reached his other up to cup her head, also breathing her in. A lusting grew quickly inside her, fire shooting down her legs for pleasing him.

Frustration, anger but a deep caring feeling had her whimper out over his lips, and she reached down her hand to grab him between his legs, and she felt him bucking his hips out, surprised, but wanting. She felt him hardening in her hand, and heat overtook her stomach and had her force him down on the bed.

Soon, pain and pleasure shot down her legs as he split her. "Freyja," he whispered almost inaudibly as he left her only to penetrate once more, rocking her forward in the bed.

He hit something unfamiliar inside her, pleasure washing over her like the waves of the sea on rocks during a stormy night. Fire exploded inside her when he hit her the same amazing place one more time, and she moaned out loudly as she came undone around him, her whole body tensing violently. She heard herself too breathing out the goddess' name, feeling her surrounding her being with a beautiful richness that sank something in her body in pleasure.

Ragnar growled out above her as he exploded inside her while still rocking her body, and she felt his warm seed spilling inside her, a warm lust for him to plant himself there, for something to grow rising in her heart.

She felt an unearthly caress above her stomach, as Ragnar left her core, and she closed her eyes before letting her body fall down upon the body, feeling Ragnar doing the same beside her. She whimpered softly.

"I think..." Frida started, breathing heavily. "I think that I will carry your child, Ragnar."

She felt his hand upon the lower on her back, and he kissed her hair gently.

"I think so too," he whispered.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank yoooou for all the love :-***

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Frida awoke in the middle of the night when she heard a small creaking by the door to Ragnar's bedroom.

With her eyes still heavy from sleeping, she sat up and looked over to see a young boy standing just in front of the bed. She recognized it quickly to be one of Ragnar's youngest sons, Hvitserk, and he stood rubbing his eyes while looking at her. Frida would guess him to be around seven years old, and she smiled at him drowsily.

"Hvitserk," she voiced tiredly, "do you want me to wake him?"

Hvitserk looked at her with big eyes, and she quickly regretted having said anything. This boy did not understand her language.

But before she could reach over to tug at Ragnar's shoulder, Hvitserk shook his head. He walked over to Frida's side of the bed, and he looked down at his hands, as if nervous.

"I," he started in a shaky voice, "I cannot sleep. Ubbe told me yesterday that you will be our new mother."

She saw that he was not blinking at all as he was speaking, and she felt her body jerking slightly at his words, an awkward feeling rising in her body.

"But that is not so, right?"

Frida widened her eyes and gulped down. How does one answer a question like that?

She felt herself wishing for Ragnar to wake up and save her from the strange situation she had woken up to.

She sighed out, padding the bed at her side. "Come," she whispered, and the boy soon walked over to sit beside her on the bed, looking down into his lap.

Frida breathed calmly, reaching her hand up to tuck some of his blonde hair behind his ear. She could see tears at the corner of Hvitserk's eyes, he had been crying.

"Tell me about her," Frida breathed.

She had already come to understand that Ragnar had had two wives in his life. Lagertha she knew, but somehow she had not heard much about Ragnar's most recent wife, known as princess Aslaug. Hvitserk looked at her and slid himself further down on the bed, making himself a bit more comfortable.

"She…" Hvitserk breathed, his small voice trembling greatly, "she is dead."

Frida felt her heart ache from the boy's words, knowing all too well how not having a mother feels like. She reached up her hand to stroke his forehead, looking at him intently. "How was she like?" Frida asked in a whisper.

She did not know exactly how she was going to comfort this boy, especially when she could not just feed him the same story about death that her own Lady Liofrun had given her the many times she had asked her about her mother. She knew that princess Aslaug was not in Heaven.

Hvitserk looked at her. "She was very sweet. And caring. And she was beautiful too," he answered.

Frida smiled at him, and she pictured Aslaug for her eyes. She had to have been very beautiful, the queen of Denmark, to have produced such sweet and handsome boys. She was going to ask Ragnar about her when he woke up, Frida thought to herself. She was intrigued in knowing more about their family ties.

"Hvitserk," she whispered softly, "I am not your mother. I will never be. No one is going to replace her."

Hvitserk looked up at her, tears swelling in his blue eyes. Frida exhaled. "But I might stay here… And be a friend to your father, if that is alright with you?"

She could see how Hvitserk weighed her words in his head, his mouth frowning slightly. "Will you have children?"

Frida was taken a bit aback by the question, but she quickly swallowed her surprise, when he continued: "Because I hear you trying to, in the night."

A feeling of guilt washed up into her mouth, tightening her throat and drying out her tongue. She mindlessly put her hand on her stomach, a warm feeling still lingering there from earlier. She knew that Ragnar had planted himself there, she could feel her body nursing something inside her, something small and alive.

"I, uh…" Frida tried, not wanting to hurt the boy, "I think that we are, yes."

She closed her eyes, fretting his response.

"Good," she heard Hvitserk chirp out, and she felt him reaching over to cover himself beneath the furs of the bed. "That will make my father very happy, I know. So you can stay."

Frida opened her eyes to see the boy smiling at her, while lying beside her. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words were stuck on her tongue. She lied herself down next to him, and looked into his blue eyes that bore such a strong resemblance to his father's, a smile made her lips curl.

This boy was very clever. She could sense a certain calmness in his air.

"I will then," Frida chimed in a breathy voice.

She watched him close his eyes as he was laying there, and she felt his calmness over her, consoling her. When sleep was already breathing out over her body, she heard Hvitserk whisper to her in the darkness: "But can you please make a girl, then? I really want to have a sister."

Frida smiled to herself and reached an arm over to stroke his hair. "That is for the gods to decide, is it not?" she finally whispered, and she could feel the boy relaxing beside her, his breathing heavier with every second.

Hvitserk nodded slowly, and she heard the boy finally giving in, sleep falling over him next to her.

Frida soon had herself falling asleep too, Ragnar on one side of her, and his son on the other. Her dreams were filled with images of her running between trees, trying to catch a glimpse of a boat that was sailing along the coast of Kattegat's surrounding mountains, both Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar, and Bjørn waving at her from behind the railing of the boat. Her sleep was deep and calm.

...

Frida spent the next couple of weeks on learning whatever she could about the Viking culture. Athelstan devoted many hours of the following days to teach her Norse, which she found to be way more difficult than she ever would have imagined.

Sometimes, she had wanted to rip out her own tongue in frustration, as it always curled when it should not, always doing the opposite of what she wanted it to. Athelstan was a very patient man, Frida had concluded, but his patience spread onto her, and they trained her tongue and ears as often as they could.

After a while, she had started to get the hang of their language. To her relief, the language was very slow, the rhythm of it like a gentle drum compared to her high beat English.

Ragnar always chuckled to himself when she answered him in Norse. He said that her accent sounded childish and sweet.

Frida also came to learn a lot about the plans of the Norsemen, and that Ragnar was very ambitious when it came to raiding other countries. Apparently, the Vikings always went off to raid other lands during the summer, however, it was not only to bring home riches for their kingdom but also to explore what these other lands were like, in both cultural, economic and social regards.

When Frida asked Ragnar why it was so important for him to see other lands, he always responded with the same screed: That he was only a farmer, curious to see how men from different parts of the world nourished their crops and soil.

But Frida always saw a small light sparking in his eyes when he spoke of the lands he had not yet discovered. She knew that he was not only a simple farmer: He was a king, a warrior, and an adventurer.


	15. Chapter 15

"No, Ubbe… Hvitserk!" Frida exclaimed from her seat on the small bridge that led to the salty water of the sea as she watched one brother push the other lightly on the shoulder.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bjørn quickly getting to his feet before rushing over to his small brothers, pulling them apart. "What did I tell you two about…" Bjørn started out in a serious voice, but Frida smiled to herself and stopped paying attention to his words, as she knew that Bjørn was very good with children. She turned her head to smile at Ivar who was sitting beside her in his small cart, and she reached over to help him untangle his fishing line from the weeds that grew up along the post of the bridge.

Frida had eagerly agreed to go with the boys on a little fishing trip just outside Kattegat's margins, just to do something else with them than sit around in the long-hall and come up with games for them to play. She had not exactly devoted much time to Ragnar's children since she had arrived because of the many things she felt like she had to learn, but now that a small bump on her stomach had started to make its appearance, Frida really felt the need to get to know them.

She was carrying Ragnar's child, and even though she knew in her heart that she would become a good mother, she still wished to show them that she cared for them, and wanted to spend time with them.

She felt Ivar tucking at her hair, and she gazed upon his sweet little face as he proudly presented her with a small trout that he had caught. "Wow, Ivar, what a nice fish!" she exclaimed before pulling it off the hook.

Ivar smiled to himself before throwing his line out in the water once more.

Frida chuckled.

Ivar was the brightest child she had ever known. He was still very young, and he did not talk much, but she could tell that he was always watching everyone around him, listening, like a serpent waiting patiently for a prey to come along. He was very beautiful. His hair was a darker blond than the other boys', an almost golden red firing from his head. His teeth were small and perfectly aligned, and he kind of reminded her of a little prince. She took joy in being around him and his silent being.

"Father?!" she heard all three boys shout out in union at the end of the bridge.

Frida turned her head to see Ragnar gliding over the water towards the bridge in a small boat, and her eyes connected with his immediately, earning Frida's heart to speed. He still made her feel so warm inside.

"What are you doing here, father?" Ubbe asked as Ragnar swung himself up on the bridge before handing him the rope for the boat.

"I'm fetching you. What does it look like I'm doing?" he answered as he signaled for Bjørn to help him carry Ivar to the boat.

"Fetching us?" Frida asked confusedly. They were just having such a nice time, and Ragnar had already told her that he was going to be training all day with his brother.

"Hm," he smiled while blinking his eye at her, "We have been invited to join Floki's family this evening."

Frida gulped down as she reached for Ubbe and Hvitserk's hands, guiding them down the bridge carefully, both of the boys wooing excitedly when they heard Floki's name. She had never understood their affection for this man. It seemed like they almost felt him to be their uncle, but Frida had always trot carefully around him.

She could not figure out exactly what kind of man he was.

She knew that he was very good at interpreting the gods' signs, that was what Bjørn had told her, but Ragnar was always quiet when she asked him questions about Floki. And Ragnar's silence always meant something, she had quickly learned that.

As they were sailing along the coast, Frida felt a slight nudging at her arm. "What are you thinking?" Ragnar voiced into her ear and put his arms around her.

She shivered at the warmth and sighed out, shrugging her shoulders. "I do not know," she voiced back so that the boys would not hear their conversation.

Ragnar turned his eyes to the sea, hovering over it as he had done when they had sailed from England. He had a strange look in his eyes.

"I want you to trust him," he finally breathed, and she looked up at him.

His eyes were restless, dark circles carving at the skin beneath them, and she felt a slight sting in her heart. She knew that the responsibility of being a king was very hard on him. "Do you?" she asked.

Ragnar turned his eyes to glare into hers and a crooked smile curled his lips. "Hm," he smiled, before turning his head to the coast and reaching his hand up in the air to wave.

"Ragnar!" she heard Floki call out from behind the trees.

At the shore Ragnar, Frida, and the boys were greeted by Floki and his small family. His wife Helga, a white haired woman with big round beautiful eyes, and his little girl named Angrboða welcomed them smilingly to their home that was positioned up on the side of a mountain, well hidden behind the trees.

Their house was very charming, not too big, but it seemed as if it was a part of the mountain, the forest even.

When they had all entered the house, it was not long before the children were running around, playing both boys and girl, while the three men had sat down by the fire. Frida looked at them from the table that she was helping Helga prepare, and she felt Floki´s eyes on her, constantly switching between her face and her stomach.

She let her hand stroke her small bump there mindlessly.

"Are you excited?" she heard Helga chirp beside her, a hand nudging her shoulder slightly.

"Huh?" Frida exhaled as her mind had wandered, and she turned her head to look at Helga's sweet smile, and she saw her nod her head down at her belly. "Oh, yes, very," Frida smiled, her eyes returning to stare at Floki, "It is my first child."

Her eyes twitched when Floki snickered into his horn at something funny Bjørn had said. She did not like this man's air.

"I know," Helga's voice sounded in her ear, "that my husband can behave in strange ways sometimes…"

Frida felt herself blush, and she quickly turned around to look at the Norse woman beside her, forcing all of her attention on her.

"But," Helga continued as she poured some mead, "he is loyal to his king. And therefore also to you."

Frida gulped down before trying her best to shake the nervous feeling off that crawled on her skin, smiling a bit forced at the woman beside her. Helga's eyes were warm and friendly, and Frida soon felt at ease in her company, as they served the night's food. She could tell that they were going to become great friends.


	16. Chapter 16

The night was dragging on.

Most of the children had already fallen asleep, only Ubbe was still awake, sitting in his father's lap with his eyes half closed. Ragnar, Bjørn and Floki were discussing their plans for the next summer raid while drinking from their horns, and Frida and Helga had been making small conversations about village life and why her and Floki had chosen to live outside the town.

Floki is just like that, she had said. Apparently, he was the only one in the village who could build boats, so he worked night and day to make improvements and come up with new ideas for their voyage over the wide seas.

Frida could not help but to feel a bit sad when she heard this. Sad not only when she felt how Helga might wish for him to spend more time with his family, but also because she never really liked him. Not really.

Floki had been the one reason for Ragnar to travel to Northumbria, he was the only person responsible for her meeting the father of her growing child.

Frida stroked her belly.

She looked up immediately when she felt eyes on her, and she saw all three men glaring at her. "Hm?" she smiled, before raising her horn at them.

"Come," Ragnar waved her over, and as she rose to her feet, Helga followed her over to them by the fire.

Bjørn looked interrogatively at Frida, then to Ubbe, as if asking her whether she wanted him to carry his brother over to the other sleeping children. She nodded and whispered thanks, while feeling a fur being laid on her shoulders and a small kiss on her hair from Ragnar beside her.

"Are you cold?" Ragnar whispered in her ear, and she shivered lightly, not from the cold but from his breath on her skin.

He reached up to pour her some more mead, and he smiled: "It is still warm, even."

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek but sat back down when she felt Floki's eyes on her again. His lips were curled up in a twisted smile, his eyes in shadows. He pulled out a small bowl filled with what seemed to be fried herbs, which he passed around. Frida saw everyone take a small herb from it before it was passed onto her, and she realized that its content was mushrooms.

Small white, dried, mushrooms.

She looked questioningly at Ragnar, who shook his head almost invisibly before taking the bowl from her. Frida blinked a couple of times with her eyes.

"This," explained Floki with a devilish grin on his face, "is food of the gods."

She watched him put the mushroom between his lips, chew it as one would chew dirt, and then swallowed it down with a big gulp of his horn.

She watched Helga and Ragnar do the same, before Helga explained: "It makes you… experience the world like the gods do. You see and hear things that are meant only for the gods to witness."

Frida leaned in closer to the fire, intrigued, to see the mushrooms clearer. They sure did not look like anything gods would eat, but she heard Floki snicker.

"These are, of course, only one kind," he said. "There are other kinds who work differently."

Frida was very interested now. "You mean, like medicine?" she asked, her skin prickling curiously as this was probably something her mother would have known.

This caused all of them to laugh, and Frida did not even look up when she heard Bjørn enter the room again.

"Hm, yes and no," Floki smiled into his horn before taking a small sip.

Ragnar pulled her closer to him, to have her sit between his legs while his hands swayed down to gently stroke her stomach. The usual warmth spread in her body, and she relaxed back into his arms.

"The white ones, like these, are to make you sense godly things. The green ones…" Floki's glare quickly slid over to Bjørn before returning to Frida, "Make you go berserk. And the red ones…"

He rolled his eyes dramatically before reaching over the wooden bench he was resting his back against to pull out a log of wood for the fire.

"It kills you," Ragnar breathed into her ear.

Frida's eyes widened, and she quickly drank from her horn. She took in the new information and weighed it slowly in her head. She could feel Ragnar swaying slightly behind her. "What does… 'go berserk' mean?" she asked in a small voice.

Athelstan had never taught her that expression before.

Just as Floki opened his mouth to answer, Bjørn's voice suddenly spoke out from beside her. "'Bersærkergang' is very powerful. It makes your mind frenzied, your bile eats up all of the fear you would have felt without it before you enter battle. Many warriors use it for strength, courage."

He swallowed the mushroom he had been chewing on before turning his face to look at her.

Frida furrowed her brows at him. She wondered whether he had ever gone berserk.

"Some say that the berserkers are given strength by Odin, that he protects them, and they therefore need no armor."

Frida stiffened. "No armor in battle?"

Bjørn shook his head before scooting himself further down on the fur he was sitting on.

"No!" Floki cried out in excitement, rising to his feet with his arms in the air. "Because they become stronger than the mere men they are, they become wolves, or… bears."

Floki's eyes landed once more on Bjørn, who was smiling with his eyes closed. She could hear him mumbling for Floki to shut his mouth, but Floki did not hear it, and he continued.

"There are tales of men in the northern lands, how they never left their frenzied state of mind, and they are still running wild in the woods, killing whatever comes near them."

Frida shivered heavily, causing Ragnar to rub his fingers against her arms with big movements.

She wandered whether he was already affected by the plant, because it seemed as if Helga was.

"Halfdan the Black's men," Helga whispered through smiling lips. She seemed dazed, spellbound, as she lied on the furs covering a bench.

"They only wear the skins of the wolves they kill, and their weapon is a long spear that they throw silently through the forest, the victim innocently unsuspecting, and then…" Floki howled, frightening Frida more than she would care to admit, as the hideous sound crept into her ear and dissolved itself in her body like venom.

She promised herself never to wander off into the woods alone again.

She heard Ragnar chuckle into her ear. "Floki, stop. You are scaring her."

Floki grinned maliciously before sitting down beside Helga once more, resting his back at the bench she was lying on. His eyes never left Frida's face, she could feel them on her like knives, cutting at the flesh of her cheeks.

"Oh, do not worry, my sweet Ragnar. We all know that Frida here is protected by the gods. Are you not?" he snickered.

Frida finally let her eyes connect with his and she felt her blood freeze as the question left his lips. His smile was wicked as he sat there looking at her, and she finally realized what had gone wrong between the two of them.

He did not believe her.

Floki thought that she was fooling Ragnar with her talk about the gods in her dreams. Frida narrowed her eyes at him.

Oh, how she wanted to prove him wrong.

* * *

 **"Bjørn" means "bear" in Norse (and Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish...) Hope you guys enjoy! :-)**


	17. Chapter 17

Despite all of Floki's scary stories about wild men hovering the northern forests like wolves, she had stepped out of the house to get herself some fresh air. The night was black, the pale illumination of the moon being the only source of light for seeing anything out there. The air was clean and cool on her face, and she closed her eyes as she inhaled it deeply.

She tried to clear her mind from all of the thoughts about Floki not believing her, but she had difficulties.

How could she ever have made all of that up in her mind? How could she, having spent all of her life in Northumbria, ever have known anything about their god Odin?

Frida walked silently down towards the shore in front of her. The water made almost no noise as it washed up on the grey sand there, and she sat down on a rock close by, looking at the reflection of the moon in the water. It was almost full, she noticed, and she felt herself relax while sitting on the rock, being one with the silence surrounding her.

She caressed her stomach, and her mind wandered back to Ragnar, who was inside the house, intoxicated by the power of the mushrooms. In some way, she kind of wished that he had not eaten it, as his air had changed into a strange cloud of unfamiliar clumsiness and laughter.

She breathed out as she heard the cry of a raven above her, and her eyes quickly fell to the water. She suddenly felt a growing eagerness to speak to someone close to her, someone who knew her better than anyone else, someone…

Frida frowned when she realized that she was very far away from her Lady Liofrun, and that she would probably never see her again. Her mother too…

She felt her heart beat faster, and her breath seemed to become even warmer than usual, spreading smoky clouds from her lips into the night air. She did not really have anyone that could guide her in this journey she had stepped herself onto, the journey of becoming a mother, caring and nursing another human being that is too fragile to do anything on its own. Her mother could not give her advice on how to feed it the best, what to eat so the child would grow bigger, even such a simple thing as how to love her coming child she would never be able to ask her about.

Frida's body collapsed in surprise when she heard a twig snapping behind her.

She quickly turned around on the rock, scanning the forest before her with her eyes, but it was too dark for her to see anything.

Another sound of a twig breaking had her stand to her feet now, and she clutched her arms around her stomach, protecting her small baby bump. She could sense movement behind the trees West of the house, and she narrowed her eyes, straining them to see just the figure of what was moving out there.

She took a step backwards, almost falling over the rock she had been sitting on, when she saw to eyes in the darkness. Fear instantly raced through her blood as she realized that these eyes belonged to something really big, something tall, as the figure stepped closer to her.

Just when Frida was about to yell out for help, she finally saw the creature that was moving towards her.

It was a… horse?

A very tall, lean, and muscular white horse was slowly walking towards her, its eyes stuck on her face, its hooves almost inaudible on the ground. As Frida exhaled in relief the horse bent its head down, eyes still on her, while it gracefully trotted closer and closer. When it stepped out of the shadows completely, the moonlight made its fur glare in a mysterious, almost godlike manner.

Frida gulped down hard, before she too took a step towards it. "Hello?" she tried out in a small whisper, well knowing that the wild horse would not answer her.

It had to be wild, she concluded, as it bore no signs of use, no strings or straps attached to it, and it seemed wild in its movements, elegantly striding over the rugged floor of the forest. The horse only stopped when there was but a few inches between them, and Frida looked into its eyes.

A warm, loving sensation shot through her veins, bubbling in her stomach and making her heart beat heavier.

Frida thoughtlessly reached her hand op to its neck, and she swayed it down over its white mane. It felt soft like a spider's web, and she saw it stepping even closer to her, resting its mouth against her chest. As she let her fingers intertwine with the horse's withers, she felt something loosen in between it, an object quietly dumping down on the ground beneath them.

Frida reached down and widened her eyes when she pulled up a beautiful golden necklace hanging between her fingers.

As she looked closer, she saw that at the end of the gold chain hung a gorgeous clear pinkish stone, and Frida looked up to the eyes of the horse once more, feeling calmness spread over her skin like smoke when their eyes connected.

She felt its warmth as she stood there beside it, and she leaned in closer to it, her head resting on its neck. She felt it whispering to her, saying that everything was going to be alright, and that the child growing in her stomach would have a happy life, surrounded by brothers and family always.

"Frida?" Bjørn's voice sounded from over by the house, "What are… What is THAT?"

The horse backed away from her in panicky movements at their interruption, and Frida reached up her hands to calm it down. She heard Bjørn jump down from the wooden porch, but she yelled for him to stop, her eyes still clinging to the horse.

But nothing did it help.

The horse quickly trotted away from them and disappeared into the darkness of the forest with lightning speed.

She felt a big hole forming in her insides, a black hole of emptiness, as she kept staring at the place in the dark where the horse had disappeared. Annoyance spread quickly through her blood when she felt Bjørn's fingers clasp around her shoulder.

"What?" she sneered hastily, as the forest had silenced around them again, the horse already long gone.

She clasped her fingers around the golden necklace in her hand. Bjørn's face was furrowed in confusion, and he too let his eyes turn to the darkness west of the house. "I, uh…" he stumbled out in a thick voice.

When the door to the house was opened again, Frida looked up to see Floki standing up on the porch, his face in shadows. Frida started walking towards him, anger dwelling up in her insides.

She heard Bjørn following her clumsily, mumbling to himself in confusion.

Frida angrily crawled up on the porch, and she took quick and long steps to reach Floki as fast as she could.

"See?!" she spat at him, reaching her hand up to his face, forcing him to stare at the golden necklace in her hand.

Floki looked down at it and rolled his eyes dramatically, waving his hand at her hand. "A necklace? How… wonderful."

She sighed out, grabbed his hand with as much force as she could, and started dragging him back into the house, into the light of the fire. The air in there was warm and heavy, but her body was too exhilarated to let it get to her.

She saw Ragnar and Helga jump up in their seats at the tumult, and she eagerly pushed Floki down to sit down by the fire.

"Here," she hissed, and she pulled at his hand for him to take hold of the necklace.

"What, uh, Frida?" she heard Ragnar mumble, but she did not have the time to explain anything to him. Her eyes were glaring at Floki's face.

When she started speaking, she heard an unfamiliar voice sonorously sound from her lips: "You see? I am not fooling you!"

Floki's eyes widened, and he held the necklace closer to his face, his eyes scrupulously inspecting it. Frida felt Ragnar stand up behind her, and he too moved closer to the fire, his eyes peeping out over her shoulder.

"Where did you get it?" Floki whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

"Get what?" Helga chirped from the floor.

Frida bit at the inside of her cheek as she awaited Floki's response.

"Uh…" Bjørn mumbled beside the two couples, "There was something… out there."

Frida glared at him with hard eyes, but he seemed to avoid them.

"What, Bjørn?" Ragnar demanded in a serious voice that revealed his status of being his father.

Bjørn sank. "A horse?"

Floki sprang to his feet and carried the necklace weirdly over to the table, as if the necklace possessed some kind of magic that you did not want spread over your skin.

She heard Floki chuckle nervously to himself. "And what did this… horse tell you, Frida?"

Frida looked to the ground as his question was unsuspected, real. She weighed the words in her head, wondering how to put it together for him to understand.

"I asked for guidance, and I got it."

Floki made a hissing sound that you could almost mistake for being a small chuckle.


	18. Chapter 18

Frida laid in the guest bed at Floki and Helga's home, naked and warm beneath the furs with her eyes closed.

The children were not sleeping in the long-hall of the house, but they had shared a bed up on their bedloft where Bjørn too had gone to sleep. Frida heard the subtle murmur of Ragnar and Floki's voices near the fire behind the bed curtain, and she snuck her way even further down the covers, praising the nice warmth of the room. Fall was getting closer and closer, and the cool wind was squeaking across the floors of the house.

Frida reached her hand up to the golden necklace that was pressed against her chest between her breasts. She was certain that it was a gift from the forces of the nature. Ragnar and Bjørn were sure that it was a gift from Freyja. Floki…

She was still not really convinced that he truly believed her. But she knew for certain that some force wanted for her to prove him something. And she had this evening, whether Floki wanted it or not.

Frida opened her eyes when the bed curtain was pulled open to see Ragnar come crawling in, his eyes red and bleary. He was tired, she could tell, but as he pulled the curtains close, he did not collapse next to her on the bed. He rested his head in his hand, elbows on the floor of the bed, looking at her with a small curl on his lips.

Frida pushed herself up on her elbows too and smiled at him teasingly. "Why don't you lay down, my king?"

Ragnar breathed out while rolling his eyes dramatically before squeezing them at her, passion shining from them. He gently let his hand sway over the black fur covering her body, a finger teasing her skin at the top of the cover, tickling her collarbone gently.

"I think it is funny," he whispered softly, "how our gods have such great interest in you."

Frida stared at him and him at her, his eyes piercing at her skin.

She sank hard. "I really don't know why…"

Ragnar silenced her with his finger pressing down on her lips, and he crawled up to her so that his face was inches from hers. His eyes were shining so intensely, she would have sworn that they were not of this world.

"I do," he breathed on her skin, reaching his hand up to pull her covering fur off her.

She felt her exposed skin shivering, and she watched as Ragnar bent over to kiss her belly. He let his hands rest at her small bump, and she closed her eyes when he smiled up to her, her heart swelling achingly inside her chest.

She heard him sniffling.

"The seer promised me that I would have many sons," Ragnar breathed in between small kisses that he planted on the skin of her belly, "but I know that this… she… is going to be the most beautiful girl that ever walked on the grounds of Kattegat. I know it."

Frida felt blood pulsating heavily through her body, her heart beating with life and vigor, as Ragnar rested his face on her abdomen, chuckling breathily.

"And I…" he voiced softly, "I am going to love her so."

Frida reached her hands down to cup his face, and she felt tears gather at the corner of her eyes, her throat heating immensely. Ragnar turned his face so his forehead was leaning upon her bump, his eyes looking right into her, saying: "You hear me, sweet child? I love you, and I cannot wait to meet you."

Frida exhaled deeply.

"I love you," Ragnar whispered once more, and Frida felt goosebumps covering her skin.

"I love you," she heard herself whisper into the small space between them, her voice thick with a kind of unfamiliar passion. She closed her eyes when she felt Ragnar's face turn up towards hers, and she felt his hands grab at her hips.

She heard him breathing.

"Please," he whispered, "tell it to me in your own tongue."

Frida finally let her eyes fall down upon him, the father of her yet to be born child, and she let the English words slip through her lips, the sound of them already tasting strange in her mouth. Ragnar kissed her belly button, smiling through his beard.

She heard him breathe out in her language, the sound like a soothing flute in her ears: "I love you too."

And he planted small kisses on her abdomen, making her shiver, while grasping her thighs, pulling them over his broad shoulders. Frida sighed out at the sudden change of the air in the small space around them behind the bed curtain, and she blushed heavily as she felt his breath over the hair between her legs.

She heard Ragnar groan softly as he placed a heavy kiss on her lips down there, and she reached her hand down to grab his braiding, breathing out heavily.

"Ragnar, we are not alone," she breathed, her cheeks burning with passion and embarrassment, as she turned her eyes to the bed curtain beside her.

She could vaguely sense that the fire was still burning very slowly in the center of the long-hall, and she did not know whether Floki or Helga was still out there.

"Hm," he breathed out over her, her skin burning intently, "then you better be quiet."

...

"Ragnar, for the last time… I am not going out there."

Frida's words were hard and determined, and she looked down at the comb in her hand that was resting in her lap. She heard Ragnar sigh out in frustration before he turned around to close the bedroom door behind him.

Frida felt her body relax down on the bed, and she heard the low sound of the many Vikings cheering for their king when he entered the long-hall. Ragnar had wanted her to go out there with him, to sit beside him as his queen, but she had no intentions of doing so. Even though she knew that Ragnar and she were together, and that every Norseman out there knew it too, she could not see the reasons for her presence on the throne.

She was not a queen.

Frida started combing her hair with gentle strokes, while she bit her lower lip. Every Sunday Ragnar would present himself on the throne to listen to his fellow villagers, to contemplate the vocations that his people brought forth to him, and to pass judgements on matters that had not been agreed upon. That was the role of the king here in Kattegat, at least one of them, and Frida was not even fairly educated enough in their Norse culture to have any say in the matters here.

She did not understand why Ragnar wanted her out there. She did not understand why he had told her that he needed her by his side, because… She was just a woman?

A small, fragile, uneducated female farmer from Northumbria, who knew so very little about the structure of their society, she was not to have influence over the villagers living here. They knew more about how things were done than she did.

Frida sighed out with a heavy heart as she listened to Ragnar's voice through the wooden walls. A loud roar of agreement almost drowned out the sound of the door opening in front of her.

Frida looked up to see the beautiful Lagertha peeping her head inside the bedroom, her eyes quickly finding Frida on the bed. Lagertha smiled brightly at her when she stepped in, and closed the door, resting her back against it. Frida rose to her feet and walked over to the table by the fireplace to pour her guest some ale in one of the cut cattle horns that Ragnar's servant had left there for her.

"Here," she smiled, and Lagertha accepted it thankfully before sitting down on a small stool next to the table.

Her eyes were filled with warmth as she drank silently, and Frida sat down too, biting the nail of her finger. Lagertha was a genuinely sweet person, full of warmth and grace, but she was very strong too, confident and brave, and it always made Frida feel very small when she was in the same room as her.

Lagertha was all the things that Frida wanted to be. Free, independent, bright. She felt a hand on her arm, and she looked up at Lagertha's furrowed brows, her head tilted to the side, as she spoke: "Frida…"

"Did he send you?" Frida interrupted, but closed her lips quickly, instantly regretting her lack of respect for Lagertha's words.

But Lagertha just smiled at her. "Yes?" her voice rang like the small bells of a church, "They do that when they do not know what to do."

Frida's lips curled into a questioning smile, her thoughts not exactly following the Norse woman next to her.

"Men," Lagertha chuckled before sipping her ale slowly, answering Frida's confused stare, "They come to us women when they do not know how to handle a situation."

Frida breathed out in a chuckle, looking down on the horn in her hand that was still full. She did not know what to say.

"You need to stand up in front of them, Frida. You need to let them see who you are, and that you are here to stay. If that is what you intent to do."

Frida felt something fall to her stomach, weighing her down in her stool. She knew that Lagertha was trying to persuade her to go out there and join Ragnar on his throne, but she also knew that she was giving her advice. From one woman to another.

Frida sighed. "But Lagertha, how can I go out there? How can I help him decide matters that I have no clue on handling? How can I…"

Her words seemed to disappear into the air, her mind filled with all sorts of questions for the lady next to her. Lagertha had done it before, she had sat there on the throne beside Ragnar, she knew what it was all about. And yet, she was telling Frida to be the one to sit next to him.

Frida gulped down the soothing liquids from her horn. It was sweet, almost tasting like mead.

"Frida," Lagertha voiced as she leaned her face closer to her, "I have known you for many moons now. I have watched you enter this land, and I have watched you prosper. They…" Lagertha reached out her hand to carefully take hold of the golden necklace that hung down over Frida's chest, "too have watched you. And they have brought you here for a reason. You and Ragnar…" Frida looked up into the eyes of Lagertha and saw a quick painful light flash over her eyes before she closed them, "are meant to be out there, together. You are carrying his child, are you not?"

Frida absentmindedly reached her hand to nudge her stomach and felt her throat warming. She nodded while closing her eyes, and she could feel her necklace falling back down on her chest.

"Ragnar will do his duty, I promise you. He will be a good father to your child, and he will be a good husband to you. So you have to do your duty too. And you will walk out there and sit by his side, and guide him when he is short of words. When he needs you."

Frida opened her eyes to stare into Lagertha's, her heart pounding hard in her chest and her blood rushing for her ears. She knew that Lagertha was right. She knew that her words were not only true, they were a lesson that Frida had to learn.

She rose to her feet, her shoulders weightless and free.

Before opening the door, Frida turned in her feet and gazed back at Lagertha. She breathed in. "I know…" Frida voiced, "that you still love him. But I want to know why you are not still with him. Please."

She could see lines carving Lagertha's forehead, shadows running down over her eyes. Lagertha rose from her stool to join Frida, her arm reaching over Frida's shoulders.

Frida heard her breathing out and she felt her hand nudging her arm. "Ragnar never asked to be in the situation he is in now. He has come a very long way, and he has learned a lot. I see the change in him. He will not make the same mistake with you as he did with me. He knows now that the betrayal of family is the betrayal of the gods. Trust him."

And with those words Lagertha and Frida walked into the long-hall, arms around each other, facing the crowd of the Norse men and women together.


	19. Chapter 19

Frida felt like the whole world was watching her as she made her way across the stone paved floor of the long-hall. Her heartbeat was fast and strong, her face flushed with heat as she soon stepped up on the raised wooden platform on which the two large wooden chairs stood, and where Ragnar already was seated, as the king he was on his throne.

Ragnar did not look at her, however, as she sat down next to him, but his eyes hovered the crowd before them while he absentmindedly stroked the head of a small white lamb that laid curled up in his lap.

Frida heard the low murmuring and whispers that spread through the crowd of Norsemen when she entered the room, and she quickly scanned the crowd to have her eyes connect with Lagertha's, suddenly not feeling the sensation of bravery in her chest that Ragnar's earlier wife had just had her feel. Lagertha smiled at her and nodded her head.

Frida exhaled deeply, and finally found the courage to look at the faces of the men before her.

They were all so very tall and broad, their beards reaching down over their bulky chests and their hard eyes following her every movement. She noticed that especially Rollo was eyeing her intently, his eyes focused on the necklace that hung down over her chest. Frida reached her hand up to let her fingers close around it, wishing that the same feeling of calmness that the horse had had her feel in the forest would shine upon her in this moment.

A man that she had not yet laid her eyes upon stepped forward, and he proudly strode onward to stand before Ragnar and Frida, his eyes glaring at her face. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, while the sound of the murmuring crowd died down.

"I wish," he grumbled in a deep voice, "to report a thief."

Frida looked at Ragnar out of the corner of her eye, and she saw him curling his lips at the man, his eyes narrowing down at him slightly.

"Yes?" Ragnar hummed, still stroking the lamb in his lap gently.

It bleated softly between his hands, while the man explained how every morning, when he went out to do his daily chores, he would find the eggs of his chickens to be gone and the his cow to have been already emptied for its milk. His gardens would already have been plucked, the berries of his bushes already picked.

"However," he hummed, "the foliage around my house is never treaded down, and the traps I have set forth have not been touched. I…"

The man's growling voice broke, and he looked down upon his feet, resignedly. Frida looked at the man with soft eyes as she could tell that he was not angry about this theft. He was just desperate for it to stop.

"Hm," Ragnar voiced beside her, "And who do you think is responsible for this?"

Frida saw the men standing around him glaring at each other, some sort of exchange of words going on between them without their lips moving. The man in front of them shrugged his shoulders, his head falling down on his chest in resignation. "Someone who has no shame. I cannot feed my family, my king. We are starving."

Frida turned her head to look at Ragnar, and she saw that he was eyeing her too, his lips curled. She widened her eyes when she saw him lifting his eyebrows at her, as if urging her to speak. Frida shook her head in quick movements at him.

She was not ready yet.

Ragnar sighed out and put down the lamb, rising to his feet. He was very dramatic in his movements as he stepped down to put an arm over the shoulders of the robbed man, eyeing him closely.

"So your thief is someone who cleverly has outsmarted your traps, and someone who can apparently hover the land, yes?"

A chuckling sound was heard from several parts of the crowd in the long-hall, and Frida furrowed her brows as Ragnar turned for the two of them to face the crowd. She was intrigued to see how Ragnar would solve this mystery, and she leaned forward in her seat, following the two men with her eyes as they made their way further down closer to the fire.

"We are not savages in this village," Ragnar's voice howled over the many Viking hairs, "We steal not from our fellow men. If the thief does not show himself before me and…" Ragnar turned his head to lay his eyes upon Frida for mere seconds, "your coming queen before the end of this day, you will all go to this man's house and serve him a fair part of your food supply. Be it hens, goats, crops or fruits."

She saw Ragnar whisper something to the man that thankfully had fallen to his knees before his king, and Ragnar turned to curl his lips at Frida, making his way back to his throne.

Frida had in the meantime frozen in her spot, her limbs stunned from Ragnar's words.

 _Your coming queen?_

Her eyes started to prickle when she did not blink. Her breath was stuck in her throat.

"But what if it is the gods who are punishing him?" a voice rang out from the crowd.

Ragnar froze in his spot, his smile fading slowly, as he turned around. The men of the crowd were all turning their heads to catch a glimpse of whoever had uttered the accusation.

Ragnar exhaled deeply.

Frida stretched her neck too, trying to see who the voice belonged to. A red haired man stepped forward with his arms crossed over his chest, a questioning smile parting his lips. "Like the story of Kolbein, the farmer who burned his neighbor's food stock so he would gain wealth by selling crops to him, who was punished by Freyja and Frigg by having all of his own supply struck by lightning and burned to ashes."

While the robbed man rose to his feet, Ragnar put his thumb to his mouth, weighing the words in his head. Frida furrowed her brows at the red haired man.

She did not like his air.

"But what has our dear Bjarni done to anger the gods?" asked Ragnar, nodding his head towards the robbed man.

Yet another man stepped forward from the crowd, raising his hand in which he carried an axe. "His prices of weaponry have increased greatly," he said in rushed words, "Which is convenient now that the elder blacksmith has fallen ill."

A rush of whispers spread through the crowd, and Frida felt her stomach hardening, a bad sensation growing inside of her. Her eyes connected with Ragnar's, and she felt herself slowly shaking her head while clenching her fists around the arms of her chair.

She did not believe Bjarni to have angered the gods merely by raising his prices. He had raised them to be able to provide for his family, and the gods would never punish such a deed.

At least, that was her feeling about it.

Ragnar chuckled raptly. "What say you, Frida?" his voice called out over the crowd, and he vividly sprang up to stand on the longtable, his stare on her very intense.

Frida closed her eyes when she felt everyone's attention turning to her, and she shifted nervously in her seat, her blood racing inside her veins.

This was it.

Now was the time she had to stand up and face the Viking villagers, to show them who she was, and show them that she was just in her actions.

She rose to her feet with trembling knees, and her hand reached up to grab at her golden necklace, the pink stone cooling her fingers mildly. The stories that Athelstan had told her about the two goddesses Freyja and Frigg did not chime well with this situation. They had nothing to do with this.

Her head was shaking lightly, when she finally spoke out in a stronger voice than she had expected, and with her eyes closed: "Freyja and Frigg would never punish a husband and a father for trying to provide for his family. I say that someone in here is the guilty one, and I wish to speak to him before sundown."

She opened her eyes only to connect them with Ragnar's.

She saw his lips curling into a twisted smile, his blue crystals shining wildly with excitement. He let a breathy chuckle escape his lips as he walked across the longtable with his arms in the air before he jumped down to join her.

"Well, there you have it," Ragnar concluded and his head turned slightly to look at the crowd behind him, "The gathering is over."

Frida sensed the red haired man's eyes on her face, and she glared at him, noticing a vein pulsating under the skin of his forehead. He seemed to snarl at her before he turned around to leave the long-hall.

Frida inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, when she felt Ragnar's hand upon hers as he sat down beside her. She felt her blood pump rapidly inside her body, both excitement and apprehension racing along her limbs. She felt Ragnar plant a kiss on her forehead, his musky smell reaching her nostrils and calming her down a little.

"You were very good just now, very fair," he breathed in a raspy voice, "You will marry me, will you not?"

Frida opened her eyes in surprise.


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for the support. I love it. I have never had so many followers on a fic before, and I'm super excited about it. It warms my little Danish heart :-)**

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Frida was very thankful that she did not stay at Helga and Floki's house for dinner, as she made her way along the coast on her way back to her home. The sun was already crawling down behind the western mountains, while black clouds were rolling in over the skies like a blanket above them, bringing with them a strong and icy wind. She smiled vastly when her eyes narrowed in on the small lights of her home in the distance, her muscles already aching from the repeating motion of rowing the small boat.

She had not left Ragnar intentionally not telling him where she was going, she had just rearranged her route home, not quite keeping up with the time.

 _Time…_

It seemed to move so fast here in Kattegat. To her it felt like only yesterday that she for the first time praised the small lights of the village in the horizon, on the boat from Northumbria between broad strange Norsemen, but when she looked down on her growing belly bump, it showed something different.

It was apparent now, at all times, even in the thick woolen gown that she was wearing this night. It was a gift from Helga, and it was very beautiful. The fabric was very dark, as it had been weaved from the wool of a black sheep, while the chest piece was made with grey soft wool that had not been unraveled so no wind was to slip beneath the edges. Frida liked it very much, and she had thanked Helga so many times, wondering how she could return a gift alike. But even though she had made friends with Helga, she did not know what to give a woman like her.

Helga was very… natural. She was self-sufficient in every way, making her own clothes, growing her own crops, and using the products of the forest in ways that reminded Frida of her own mother.

A slight pain ran through her heart as she continued rowing towards the shore when she came to realize that had her mother lived in this part of the world, she would not have been burned for being good with herbs and flowers. She would have been applauded, like many applauded Helga.

 _Witchery is not a sin,_ Frida thought to herself as she pulled up the oars from the black sea water beneath her. _It is a gift._

She remembered Lady Liofrun telling her that her mother always had had a thing for rabbits. Rabbit feet, meat, fur. And when Frida reached the wooden bridge of the shore, she finally knew what to give Helga, and she agreed with herself to pay Bjarni, the blacksmith, a visit when she had dined in the long-hall.

A necklace with a rabbit's foot would be perfect!

As she made her way across the village, through the market place and past the Seer's house, Frida was greeted repeatedly by villagers, and she smiled and waved back at them, relishing their sweet gestures. She was truthfully starting to feel like home here, more than she ever had in Northumbria.

And she loved the calmness of home.

When Frida opened the door to enter the long-hall however, her smile quickly faded.

There was a great commotion in there, a small crowd of people standing along the fire in the middle arguing loudly. Frida looked over to see many of the important people there, Rollo, Ragnar, Torstein, Lagertha, all of them, standing with deep carvings across their foreheads and dark eyes. She felt panic was over her, and she rushed over to the fire.

"It does not matter, Rollo," she heard Lagertha spit out while tossing a dry twig into the fire in frustration, "All that matters is that we take action, now."

Frida walked over to put a hand on Ragnar's shoulder. He was warming his hands at the fire, staring into it with a blank expression in his eyes, his lips curled downwards in something that reminded her of a snarl.

"What happened?" she asked in a small voice.

Everyone's eyes turned to her when she spoke, but quickly fell down into the fire again.

"Bjarni was murdered," Rollo grumbled behind his great beard.

Frida felt a chill run down her spine and she widened her eyes. She noticed that Torstein was breathing hard. He had been great friends with him.

"What?" she cried out in surprise. It had been a while since the episode with Bjarni and the stealing of his supplies.

Ragnar growled out before he turned to stamp angrily away from the group, Frida's eyes following him carefully. She felt her throat tighten. She thought that they had solved that problem when they punished the young man that had announced himself guilty of the theft, but apparently there were still men in Kattegat who had renounced Bjarni as a part of the village.

Some men still saw the theft as a warning of the gods for exploiting his fellow villagers, as Frida had been told by Bjørn.

Bjørn was a very good talker, and he spent much of his time debating with many different people of the village about Ragnar's decisions as king, ensuring that everyone complied and agreed on the decisions that his father made. This was something that Frida never really understood fully, as she thought Ragnar's decision-making not to be entirely colored by him as king, but by everyone in the village.

This society was very just in that way.

If there was a grant decision to be made, Ragnar would always listen to even the smallest voice in the crowd, if someone had a different take on a certain subject.

"I'll ride out for Hedeby tonight," Lagertha stated determinedly, "We'll need a new blacksmith here, and Calf owes me a favor."

Frida heard Ragnar growling from his spot over at the longtable.

"In the meantime," Lagertha continued while pointing to Bjørn that stood beside her, "You will discover who did this, talk to whomever you think could have a clue of who the guilty could be."

Lagertha's expression was hard and emotionless, and Frida inhaled sharply when she saw her eyes falling upon her. "Please, go to Bjarni's family and offer them your support. They need a soft heart to calm them down in these times."

Frida nodded heavily, her mind still racing with questions about how anyone could have a conscience to kill a man who had a family to care for.

"Ragnar?" Lagertha voiced, and the whole group turned their heads to glare at their king, who was still standing at the longtable with his hands on the planks, staring down at it intently.

Silence filled the room as they all awaited his response. The sound of the crackling logs in the fire seemed loud and impatient, and Frida twisted her hands, a certain nervousness growing inside her.

Ragnar finally ripped his eyes away from the table, and waved his hand in Lagertha's direction. "Go," he growled at her before walking towards the fire again, "Rollo, you go with Frida to pay my respect to Bjarni's family. Make sure they have everything they need."

Rollo nodded obediently, but avoided looking at Frida when her eyes sought his. It made her furrow her brows.

"Bjørn, do as your mother says, Torstein and I will go too."

Ragnar lifted his eyes to send a hard glare at Frida, his eyes narrowing down at her with worry flushing over them. But when she tilted her head to the side questioningly, he simply looked away.

Another wave of uneasiness washed over her body, and she searched her head for an answer to their weird looks. This could not have anything to do with her, now, could it?

She felt Rollo's hand on her shoulder, and she heard him mumbling into her ear that she was to follow him. But when Frida did not move as she wanted to have a quick word with Ragnar, Rollo simply pulled her away from the fire, towards the door that Lagertha had already exited through.

"Wait," she wailed while trying to break free from Rollo's tight grip, "I don't understand…"

But nothing did it help.

Rollo dragged her hurriedly out of the long-hall, into the dark outside.

"Rollo! I don't…"

The big man finally turned around to look at her, his eyes dark and stabbing in the cold night. He exhaled a cloud of white puff in her face, and she saw his mouth twitching into a thin line.

"You were the one denying the gods' intervention in this matter, Frida, remember?"

Frida looked up at the bearlike man, still knitting her brows in confusion.

He breathed out. "Someone here is not agreeing with your judgement."

Frida widened her eyes.

"Oh…"


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey guys. This chapter turned out to be very long, but I did not feel like dividing it into to two parts, so I hope the length is okay with you. If you're interested, go to You Tube and type in "Ronja Røverdatter - Ulvesangen." I listened to it while writing this chapter, and it really shows the vibe that I intented for this. It is Danish, but so very Nordic and beautiful. Enjoy :-)**

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Frida had been crying ever since she laid down on her bed that night.

Her thoughts were racing around inside her head arguing who could be Bjarni's murderer, and her heart was aching for his family. When Rollo and her had gone to visit them to pay their respects, a heavy shawl had wrapped around her heart for the blacksmith's children and his wife. Even though death was a big part of the Norsemen's way of life, it was never easy to lose a member of your family, especially not a father.

If the mother is the thread that holds a family together, the father is the pillar to which that threat is bound.

Frida sighed out in frustration as she turned around in the bed. Her eyes were dry and swollen, but she could not close them. Every time she tried to, pictures of Bjarni's cold and lifeless body on the blood colored heath would reappear for her eyes, his horrorstricken white eyes would look at her, blame her.

Frida felt the small baby inside of her move about, and she felt her throat tighten as she came to think about its future.

How many deaths would this little creature see during its life? How many cold and white bodies would it have to carry in its heart? How much blood would be spilled upon its innocent hands?

Frida bit her lip and sat up in the bed, darkness surrounding her closely. There were not many sounds in the big house, and Frida looked over to see the empty space beside her, where Ragnar should have been. But he had not returned yet with Bjørn and Torstein.

They were still out in the cold black night, searching.

Frida felt another movement inside of herself, and she looked down on her bulging stomach with tired eyes.

"What is it you want me to do, little one?" she whispered out in a light voice, stroking her hand over the stretched skin.

The baby acted as if it was impatient, urging her to do something. Frida pushed the covers off and rose to her feet, quickly covering herself in her woolen dress. She had to get out of the bedroom, out of the house.

The long-hall was empty, and the fire was low, only small embers left to spread warmth and light in the room. Frida inhaled the cold night air deeply when she stepped outside, and she immediately felt the life inside of her stir around, appointing her to move herself around the house. Frida wrapped her arms around herself, as the chilly night spread shivers all over her body, and she quickly walked around a corner only to lay her eyes upon the small fencing that led to the food storage.

Without thinking, Frida climbed the low fence and quickly strode across the paddock and stopped only when she reached the large clay pots, the perfume of their contents already reaching her nostrils. The fragrance of the different herbs and spices untangled something inside of her, calming her unsettled baby, and while absentmindedly reaching her hands down to grab a couple of different aromatic trusses, Frida's eyes traveled across the paddock, and quickly rested on the narrow path that led down to the small meadow where the villagers brought offerings for the gods.

Frida's eyes widened when the creature inside of her impatiently urged her to follow the path, and Frida threw herself over the fence, quickly and elegantly. She had to go down there, she could feel it in her insides, and while the wind was still colder than ever, Frida felt unusual warmth covering her skin, guarding her from the cold darkness that surrounded her presence.

Her steps were quick and flowy, and she deliberately ducked whenever she passed a window of one of the village houses, as she wanted to be alone. She did not want anyone to know she was out here. Ragnar would probably give her the whole 'the darkness of the night is not meant for you.' But he would not understand this, he could not feel the same urging inside of him that she felt in this very moment.

So Frida made her way along the path, and did not slow her pace before she was no longer visible from the village, deep inside the silence of the forest. She could not see much, but she knew where she was going. She had been here with Athelstan many times, as this meadow held the grant wooden figures that represented the gods, and he had brought her there to see how the Norsemen presented gifts for the gods, foods, herbs, animals and such.

When she reached the meadow, Frida came to a stop.

The silence was pounding in her ears, the darkness was pressing against her skin, and she narrowed her eyes down at the big wooden figures of the gods that towered up from the ground like black shadows in the night. She could have sworn that she had seen a shadow moving in there, something snaking its way in between the figures, but she knew that it was probably just her imagination.

She was not scared, not even the slightest, as she started walking very slowly towards the great flat rock that stood in the middle of the meadow, where the offerings lay, and she breathed out in relief when she felt her insides finally settling down. She did not know how to approach this kind of act, but she knew that she had to pray to the gods somehow, she had to tell them to care for Bjarni's family. And for her own.

However, Frida could not get herself to lay her eyes upon the statues around her. She felt like they stared down at her in the night, like their eyes were alive and piercing at her face, and she quickly sat down in front of the rock.

She felt observed, like someone was judging her every movement, and she gulped down.

She did not feel the relieve she thought she would feel when she let the herbs and spices fall to the rock. There was something more for her to do, she knew it, and she quickly let her eyes fall upon two flint stones on the rock, and she quickly reached for them. They felt cold and smooth in her hands, almost like frozen liquids, and she fumbled them together, sparks crackling from them immediately.

A cold wind swooped across the forest floor, and Frida turned her face to stare into the darkness of the forest, sensing movement once more, a shadow lingering in there between the beeches, watching her.

In panicky movements and with fear traveling along her spine, Frida once more tossed the flints against each other, causing sparks to strike from them and fall down on the herbs. A small flame started to grow between the fragrant greens in front of her, and she watched as the flame slowly spread to catch on, a small fire quickly growing before her.

A thick and white smoke clouded upwards from the spices, and Frida sensed how the light from the small fire spread out in the meadow, the shadows around her now dancing vividly, as if the forest had come alive.

She rose to her feet and finally dared to face the figures around her.

Both fear and astonishment flushed over her body as she watched the faces of the figures. They were moving, their eyes were blinking, and Frida's breathing became staggered, when her eyes fell upon the figure in front of her, the wooden statue of Frigg towering above her, looking down on her with big eyes.

Frida felt an explosion of heat and alarm as the statue watched her, its eyes glaring on her face as if judging her.

Frida took a step back, and she reached her arms up to sway over her stomach, sadness growing in her heart. She cleared her throat.

"Frigg…" she whispered into the dark night, "wife of Odin, please hear my words."

The words left her lips and entered the great silence that laid in the meadow, thick and unpleasant, and Frida searched her heart to find the courage as the want of running back to her home started to grow inside her.

A stirring inside her belly had her continuing: "Receive this small and humble gift, and fill me with your motherly affection. A terror has struck our village, the murder of an innocent man has left me…"

She searched her mind to find the right words.

"Feeling scared for his family, for my family, for… my coming child. Will you please fill the hearts of Bjarni's family with love and insurance, help them in this time of sorrow, as they have lost their father, their husband, their…"

Frida closed her eyes.

"They need you, we all need you, I need you. How can I help them? How can I be the support they so long for? How can I… be a mother? How can I be a good wife to Ragnar? How…"

A stirring of leaves had Frida turn her head to once more stare into the dark forest, making shivers run down her spine.

Something was in there. The shadow was alive. It was watching her carefully, listening to her words.

Frida felt her heartbeat fasten.

She turned her face to lay her eyes upon the statue in front of her once more. "Loving Frigg, please, fill me with your wisdom. Fill me with your motherly affections. Let me know how to take the role as a mother, a wife, a queen, I don't know how to…"

A horrible noise gashed the thick silence of the night. A creepy howling tore through her ears and froze her body, the cry of a wolf sounding from just in between the trunks of the trees.

Frida's blood was still, her heart had almost stopped, and she just managed to turn her head before the shadow that had watched her made its way into the meadow.

A juvenile wolf walked slowly towards her, its light blue eyes not moving from her face as it elegantly crept past the statue of Thor and closer to where she stood. Frida had no idea what to do. Her body was as still as the statues, and she looked at the wolf with big eyes as it only came closer and closer.

She felt the child inside of her stirring again, but she could not move, she could not tear her eyes off of the wolf that was creeping in on her, and she felt her heart pounding achingly in her chest, every fiber in her body yelling for her to get out of there.

The wolf made a snarling sound, showing its sharp white teeth, and Frida only watched in terror as it came closer, almost reaching the big rock she was standing at. Frida's mind was raging. Her thoughts chaotically tried to come up with a way for her not to have her flesh torn apart, but she was like spell bound by the slow movements of the wolf, the way its muscles tensed and relaxed beneath the thick bluish fur as it walked around the rock.

Frida finally tore her eyes away from the wolf, and she looked up to the statue of the goddess in front of her, Frigg looking down on her there in the night.

 _Is this what you want?_ she thought in silence, finally closing her eyes and awaiting the strike of the wolf.

Her thoughts immediately traveled to Ragnar, and she felt her eyes tearing up, when she pictured him before her, his eyes upon her dead body, her flesh torn to shreds and blood covering the great rock in front of her. Just another offering for the gods.

Frida clenched her teeth together and sighed out.

This was it.

Her body collapsed when she felt something wet and warm glide along her lower arm. Frida grabbed at the rock, and quickly tore her eyes to stare into the eyes of the predator beside her, the evil eyes of the wolf piercing into hers.

She breathed out in surprise when she realized that the wolf had not bit her, it had… licked her arm?

Frida rested herself upon the cold forest floor and held completely still, staring into the eyes of the wolf. It slowly lowered its head at her, its cold wet nose touching her arm once more, before it looked up at her again.

Frida clenched her teeth together again. What was going on?

She heard the wolf making a soft sound, almost a whimper, before it moved its head down to push at her arm again. Frida lifted her arm very slowly, and she watched in astonishment as the wolf moved its head to rest against her arm.

Did it… did it want her to pad it?

Frida widened her eyes when she saw herself stroking her hand down over the wolf's head, its fur on her palm feeling smooth and temperate, the wolf closing its eyes at her touch.

A smile parted her lips.

She knew that this was insane, this was completely mindnumbingly crazy. She was actually sitting there petting a wolf in the middle of the night in the dark forest of Kattegat. "What do you want?" she whispered, stroking its head once more.

The wolf looked at her before reaching its head up to lick her cheek. A smell of rotten meat and dirt hit her nostrils, but she did not shy away from it. She kept completely still, letting the wolf have control. She did not know whether a quick movement would agitate the wolf. She would just let it do whatever it wanted.

The wolf made a satisfied whimpering sound as it stroke its head over her chin, and Frida sucked in her breath. Both fear and warmth traveled along her blood. She had no idea what was going on.

Suddenly, the wolf broke away from her, and it backed away a bit to look her in the eyes again. Frida simply watched it as it turned its head towards the path that led back to the village, and she turned her eyes too to see the small lights burning from the windows of the village. The wolf's stare on her face was very intense, and she tilted her head at it, not knowing what it wanted.

The wolf rose to its feet and took a couple of steps towards the path.

Frida followed up, and she watched as the creature moved along the path before stopping to look back to her. It wanted her to follow.

As if a spell had been cast upon her, Frida felt her legs move quickly after the wolf, her heart beat stronger than ever.

The sounds of the village grew louder and louder as they neared it, and Frida could sense the wolf keeping a shorter distance to her as they came closer.

When she felt its head under her hand, she stopped. They had reached the village, and she looked down at it, their eyes connecting immediately. She felt herself nod her head, when the wolf looked her in the eyes, asking her whether it would be safe here.

"I will protect you," she whispered to it thoughtlessly, staring into the depth of its blue eyes.

The wolf suddenly laid down on the ground next to her very quickly, as a sound came from the house in front of them. A door was opened loudly. Frida saw Rollo's silhouette in front of her, and she watched as he froze there, his eyes glaring to the wolf beside her.

Fear quickly spread over her body as she watched him draw his axe from his belt, and she threw herself on the ground, her arms covering the wolf as if it was her own child.

"No!" she screamed into the silent night, her voice ripping through the darkness between them.

Rollo stopped with his arm still raised, his eyes in shadows. She could sense that he was furrowing his browns at her.

Frida heard footsteps coming closer, and she saw Bjørn and Ragnar running around the corner to where Rollo stood. Ragnar's voice was raspy, his breathing heavy from running: "Rollo, did you find…"

When his eyes fell upon Frida, his voice died out.

She watched him grabbing at his axe too, and Bjørn took a step forward, his weapon already raised.

"Don't hurt it!" Frida cried out again, feeling the wolf stir nervously beneath her protecting arms. The wolf whimpered out. She could tell that it was frightened. She watched as the three men looked at each other in awe, calculating their next step. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest.

Ragnar stepped forward, and Frida heard the wolf snarl. She looked down to stroke its head. "Shh," she breathed, "He will not harm you."

She raised her eyes to Ragnar once more. "Don't harm it. Please."

Ragnar slowly made his way closer to them, his arm still grabbing at his axe. His words were restless, hushed: "Frida, it is not a dog, it is…"

"A wolf, yes," Frida concluded, interrupting his speech. The wolf snarled quietly beneath her, cautious and calculating. She saw Ragnar's eyes resting upon the two of them, and she felt a growing wish for him to feel what she felt.

"I want it," she breathed into the night, "He is mine."

Ragnar's eyes flickered back to his brother and son, and Frida watched as they exchanged strange looks. Her breathing was heavy, anticipating. She sensed the wolf stirring beneath her, and she soon felt its tongue traveling along her cheek carefully.

Ragnar tilted his head at this notion, his eyes narrowing down on the wolf, his chest heaving up and down as he stood there.

"But…" he whispered, but Frida cut his words short once more. "I know… But he will not harm me. Let me keep him, my love, please."

She held his gaze for quite a while, before he sighed out at her, resigned.

She took the wolf to their bedroom, where she fed it, before she rested her body on the bed. Frida fell asleep in the second she closed her eyes, while the small wolf watched her from the ground right next to her side of the bed.


	22. Chapter 22

"Be careful, Ubbe, you will wake her."

Frida awoke from a very deep sleep as she felt something pushing at her shoulder. With her eyes closed, her thoughts awakened lively as she was laying beneath the warm furry covers, and she heard Ragnar's raspy voice whispering to his sons beside her.

She smiled to herself, and scooted even farther down the covers, breathing out in affection. These mornings were the best, when Ragnar had not left her side, and when the boys joined them in the bed. She heard Ivar chuckle, and she wanted to move her legs into a better position, but found them locked there beneath the giant fur.

Slightly confused and still heavy from sleep, she tucked the fur down from her face to lay her eyes upon the thing that weighed down her legs, and she widened her sore eyes. At the end of the bed laid a silvery ball of fur, its light eyes gazing upon her face, and she inhaled in a quick breath when she remembered what had happened last night.

The juvenile wolf was still here. It was laying on her, warming her, looking at her.

Frida turned her face to look at the small family next to her. Ragnar, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar, and Sigurd were all in the bed, comfortably nuzzled up beneath the covers, Ragnar's blue eyes too resting upon her face, and a small smirk spread over his lips when he noticed that she was awake. Sigurd was sleeping in his arms, resting gently on Ragnar's arm, and Frida smiled to him, and her heart quickly filled with warmth.

"Morning," she whispered in a breathy voice, earning round-eyed stares from both Ubbe and Hvitserk.

"Good morning, love," Ragnar breathed at her, while he reached his arm around Hvitserk to stroke her hair.

All the boys except Sigurd greeted her a good morning too in chirpy voices, and Hvitserk quickly glided down on the bed, his face suddenly only inches from hers.

"Can I name him?" he breathed.

Frida looked into the innocent blue oceans in front of her, and she chuckled lightly. She felt the wolf at her feet stirring, and they let their gazes fall down to the furry ball that now had raised its head, eyeing them all carefully. It almost looked like a dog, tame and calm at their feet, and Frida reached her hand up to stroke Hvitserk's chin.

"What would you call him then?" she asked still in a whispery voice, the sleep still not entirely washed out of it.

Hvitserk pushed himself up on his elbow, and looked down at the wolf with big proud eyes. "Freke," he answered, "just like Odin's wolf. He too sleeps at the end of the bed, just like that one."

Frida sent a quick smile past the boy and over to Ragnar that was smirking still, contently.

"Is that so?" Frida smiled.

Hvitserk nodded eagerly, speaking in rushed words: "Yes, and we will feed him nicely, like Odin does, you know. Because he only drinks wine and mead, he feeds his wolves the food on his plate."

"I like Fenrir better," Ubbe chirped from further down the bed.

He was tucked in behind Ragnar's legs, resting his head in his hands, eyeing the wolf intently too.

Ragnar chuckled. "We will not name him Fenrir, Ubbe. This one is a good wolf."

Frida simply grinned at the now pouting boy as he sighed out, and she felt Ivar tucking at her hair.

"What do you think, Ivar?" she smiled, and she gently scooted herself up to sit on the bed, careful not to stir the wolf too much. Ivar smiled sweetly and pointed to Hvitserk.

"Freke?" Frida smiled, and she watched him nod his head quietly, before she turned her eyes to the wolf again. It was stretching its legs now while yawning deeply, showing off its pearly white set of sharp teeth and its long tongue.

Ivar giggled.

"I think Freke is a very good name," Ragnar voiced, "and I think too that Freke is getting hungry. Ubbe, will you go get Bjørn so he can help you feed him?"

Ubbe's eyes widened before he quickly jumped down from the bed, followed closely by Hvitserk. When Ragnar's eyes fell back to Frida, she felt warmth spread in her heart. The emotions she felt for the man beside her only grew stronger and stronger for each day.

He was just, fair, and maybe a little cocky.

But she knew that it was love, what she felt for him. For she had never been this affectionate around any man before, in fact, about any other person in her life. She pushed her lips out to send a kiss in his direction.

When a knock was heard on the door, Ragnar ordered her to stay in bed, before he rose to his feet to lay the still sleeping Sigurd down in his bed. Bjørn peeped his head in, and greeted her with a small nod with his head and a shy smile.

"Should we leash him?" he asked as his eyes fell to Freke at the end of the bed, and he held out a robe.

Frida weighed his words while smiling at the wolf. It was looking at her intently, eyes hungry.

"No," she breathed, "and be gentle, please."

Frida saw Bjørn's eyes twitching slightly, while a certain nervousness flushed over his face as he called for the wolf to follow him. To Frida's surprise, the wolf jumped off the bed immediately at the sound of Bjørn's voice, as if he had done this a million times before, and he readily ran out of the bedroom with the door closing behind him.

It felt so natural for him to be a part of family, and Frida made herself comfortable in the bed with a smug smile on her face. She thought it funny that every time she would feel lost here in Kattegat, something would come along to make her see things differently, to make her heart warm, to make her feel like she belonged.

Absentmindedly, Frida grabbed the pink stone that hung from her necklace, and stroked it gently with her thumb. She was so grateful to be here, in this bed, in this land, surrounded by family, when she had never in her life had one. She wished that her mother could see her, Lady Liofrun too, and she wished that they could both have been here with her.

With her heart beating lovingly, she lifted her eyes when the door opened and Ragnar came in, quickly making his way back to the bed while pulling off his shirt, his lips curling beautifully.

"What are you thinking about, love?" he smiled as he crawled under the covers.

Frida snuggled closer to him to rest her head on his warm chest. "I'm thinking that I'm grateful. To you and to the gods."

He hummed contently, his voice spreading over her skin like a shiver. She let her eyes travel up to his face, and she could see that he was deliberating something in his mind, while he played with a lock of her hair between his fingers.

"Hey," she breathed and waved a hand in front of his face, "What are you thinking?"

Ragnar curled his lips and nudged her shoulder, his beard tickling her forehead caressingly.

"I'm thinking that I want to marry you, wolf girl. If you will have me?"

Frida widened her eyes grinningly, and she reached up her hand to grab his, weaving her fingers between his calloused ones. "Of course, I will have you, Ragnar. Is it not what the gods want, you think?"

His blue eyes narrowed down at her face, and she watched how his lips twitched slightly, his forehead carving.

Frida looked at him questioningly.

Ragnar rolled his eyes before letting them fall down on his hands.

"It is what I want," he said in a stern voice, his eyes suddenly hard.

Frida's smile faded as she sensed a different air surrounding the Viking next to her. She could see the tendons in his throat tightening slightly, a small vein pumping beneath his skin, and she wondered whether what she had said had upset him.

"What is wrong?" she asked in a small voice.

She could sense that he was trying to hide away his thoughts as he simply waved his hand at her.

She grabbed it, eyeing him even more intently. "No, what is it, love?"

Ragnar pierced her face with his hard blue crystals, his breathing calm and deep.

He sighed out.

"I just… Ever since I met you, the gods have shown me so many things… about me, about you, about life. I once…"

His voice died out as he lifted his face to stare into the wooden loft above them. She saw him frowning, but she kept silent.

Waiting.

"I was always very close to the gods," he finally continued, "and when I came to England, I was presented with your… their god, and it really puzzled me."

Frida furrowed her brows, but her lips did not move. She could see that he was still weighing the words to say in his head.

Suddenly, his eyes connected with hers again, and he moved his face close to hers, their foreheads touching and their eyes only inches from each other. "Do you believe that our lives are faded?"

The question hid Frida like a blow in the face, hard and intended, and she gulped down. This had always been something that she had never really liked to think about. She had never felt the Christian god in her presence, but now that she had come to Kattegat, she knew that she had felt the Norse gods always. They had always been by her side, guiding her through emotions, dreams and animals. So in a way, they had always known what was to happen with her, right?

She bit her lip. "I, uh… I think that they watch over us, and I think they have a plan for us. I think that they make us feel things, things that guide the choices we make during our lifetime. Maybe our lives aren't exactly determined, or bound, but they are influenced, somehow, by them. So that we end up where they want us to." Frida closed her eyes when the final word left her mouth.

She felt a warming sensation from the pit of her stomach, and she realized that this was something she actually believed in, something real. She felt Ragnar's hand cup her chin, and she opened her eyes to stare into his.

His eyes had her head swimming, and she smiled sweetly while resting her head in his hand.

The croak of a raven sounded from outside, and Ragnar turned his head lightly at the sound, a smile slowly curling up in the corner of his mouth. "Let's marry, Frida. Soon."


	23. Chapter 23

Frida still felt slightly out of place sitting on the throne in the long-hall, even though she had spent many hours up there next to Ragnar. However, as time went by, the edginess she always felt upon her skin slowly wore more and more off, and now she had even placed herself there without Ragnar at the side.

She was currently trying to fix one of Ivar's boots that Freke had chewed on, but she was close to giving up. The shoe was simply too damaged.

"You were just showing off, weren't you?" Frida sighed at Freke. The wolf that had laid down right next to her on the floor covered with roe deer furs.

He was pretending to be asleep, but Frida knew that he was awake, listening for every sound around them, inhaling every scent that came his way, and she smiled heartwarmingly at her new friend.

He never left her for very long. He always came back to stare her in the eyes, making sure that she was alright. Ragnar had called her 'wolf girl,' and she chuckled absentmindedly to herself as she put the damaged shoe on Ragnar's empty stool. She kind of liked that nickname, it sounded very Norse. As if she had been here all along.

Frida sighed out, and turned her eyes to look at the boys down at the fire pit. They were listening to a story that Frida had heard a couple of times before. The story of Baldr, the son of Frigg and Odin.

Frida reached her hand down to stroke Freke's head as she carelessly listened to the servant Thyra that was entertaining the boys: "And Baldr was known by all the people here in Midgård to be very wise and full of beauty. His home in the sky, Bredeblik, is a place where nothing impure sets its foot, and of all the gods he is known to be the one most gentle. His mother Frigg loved Baldr very much, as do all mothers their children, and she made every creature, disease, animal and plant swear an oath that they would not harm him, that they would not as much as touch even one of his white eyelashes."

Frida saw out of the corner of her eye that Ragnar and Floki entered the long-hall in deep conversation, both of them mumbling wildly to each other as they made their way over to the barrel to pour themselves some ale.

"But!" sounded the servant's voice dramatically, and Frida turned her head to the boys once more. "Frigg had forgotten one single plant. The parasitic mistletoe that grows along Yggdrasil's roots. And when Loki found out, because of his deceiving character, he convinced Høder to shoot an arrow of mistletoe at Baldr, which killed him instantly."

"But why did the gods not ride to Helheim and bring him back?" Ubbe asked, his eyes wide.

The servant smiled. "They tried, Ubbe, but Hel told them that Baldr could only return to Asgård if all in the world would cry for him. But the giantess Tøkk cried not, and Baldr was to stay in Helheim until Ragnarok."

Frida felt a shiver run over her skin, and she closed her eyes. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and promised herself that she would do anything in the world to protect her coming child.

Even if Ragnarok would come.

Frida opened her eyes when she felt Freke's warm tongue glide along her lower arm, and she saw that Ragnar had sat down on the stool next to her, while Floki lingered in front of them, his eyes clinging to the wolf at her feet.

Floki's dark eyes traveled up to meet Frida's, and his mouth twitched nervously, his posture slanting.

"Careful, Floki," Frida breathed out in a small smile, "He likes to chew on drunk Vikings."

Ragnar laughed out next to her before chucking down a big gulp of his horn. Floki simply hissed out before sitting down, resting his back along one of the bearing poles of the house. His eyes did not leave the wolf.

Frida smiled to herself, amused.

"I have something to ask you, love," Ragnar voiced beside her, and she turned her head to see a smirk on his lips. He held out his horn for her to drink some.

"Yes?" she voiced into the horn before drinking a healthy sip. She heard Floki chuckle out.

"I want Floki to speak for us at the wedding, if you will allow it?"

Frida's eyes widened and she coughed out, as some of the ale got into the wrong throat, like they say here in Kattegat. Another snicker was heard from Floki, and Frida turned her eyes to his face. He was smiling at her with his usual devilish grin, and Frida narrowed her eyes at him, contemplating.

Her and Floki…

Their relationship had not always been the best, and Frida did not know where exactly they were standing at this point. To have a guy like him, someone who had not believed her intentions with Ragnar to be true, to speak for them at their wedding, she did not know whether that was appropriate. Frida's eyes turned to Ragnar, and she awkwardly twisted her hands in her lap.

She opened her mouth not knowing how to put it delicately: "I, uh…"

But before she could say another word, out of the corner of her eye she saw that Freke had gotten up from his position down at her feet, and he walked slowly across the floor to where Floki was sitting.

All three of them were silent with their eyes on the wolf as it sat down in front of him, and he hissed out in a nervous breath when it gently lifted its head to sniff his hair. Frida tilted her head at the pair in front of her, and she felt a slow warmth creep out from her insides, her blood bubbling joyfully. When Freke let his tongue glide over Floki's chin, causing him to chuckle out with a slight panicky tone to his voice, Frida laughed out heartwarmingly.

She knew what it meant when she saw the wolf turning its head to look at her, its calm silver eyes resting upon hers gently.

"Well, that's a yes," she smiled before she reached over to take Ragnar's horn out of his hands and gulping down the rest of the ale in it, "but I know so very little about your way of celebrating a wedding. When will we have it?"

She watched as Floki petted Freke carefully, his dark eyes full of astonishment.

Ragnar smirked beside her. "Helga has promised to help you with your dressing, and I will take care of the rest. I think we'll start the party in two days already."

Frida's body suddenly came to life, her heartbeat already increasing. "In two days?" she voiced out chokingly.

But… That was…

Two days?

She hissed out nervously. She felt Ragnar taking her hand, and she turned her eyes to gaze into his blue ones, his calm air already fighting off some of the nervous shivers that had spread over her skin. His lips curled beautifully, and he sneaked his face closer to hers, his warm breath on her face.

"We already have everything we need in food and drink, so why not?" he breathed.

She gulped down as it seemed like butterflies had awoken inside her stomach, the baby inside stirring happily at his words. She could feel Floki and Ragnar's eyes on her, and her face flushed with heat.

They were really going to get married, weren't they?

"I, uh… Yes, I guess?"

Ragnar threw his arms up in the air with a huge smile on his lips.

"Thyra!" he shouted dramatically across the long-hall, "Tell Svend and the others that the wedding will be held in two days' time, we need our invitations to be sent out today before sundown."

The servant that was sitting at the fire pit surrounded by the children immediately rose to her feet, and she bowed obligingly at her king, her eyes big and round.

"Yes my lord," she chirped, "How many pigs will we need?"

Ragnar rose to his feet too to walk over and fill his horn once more. "I think ten should do it, right Floki?"

Frida sighed out in amazement at his words and turned her eyes to stare at Floki that was still stroking Freke's head.

"Yes," Floki smiled, "ten will be enough."

"Ten pigs?!" Frida exclaimed in a high voice and with big eyes.

Ten pigs were enough to feed an entire army of Viking men. Ragnar drank heavily from his horn before handing it to her.

"Yes, love," he grinned, "We don't want to run out of food already on the third day, now, would we?"

Frida felt like she was going to faint. "Three days?"

Floki chuckled manically from his position on the floor. "Yes," he grinned, "A royal wedding normally last more than five days here. Is that not normal in Northumbria?"

Frida felt her mouth dry up and she put her hand over her forehead, dizzyness covering her hastily.

"No," she breathed, causing both men to laugh out.


	24. Chapter 24

"Helga, help!" Frida exclaimed in a laugh, "Come quick, she is trying to get in!"

Frida tried the best she could to keep the little girl out of the bath tub, but her arms were not entirely long enough to lift her. Helga came running into the room and smoothly lifted the grinning Angrboda away from the warm water in which Frida was bathing, and she chuckled at the child, her eyes full of affection.

"She loves water just as much as her father," Helga smiled as she sat down at the fire pit with Angrboda on her hip. She sighed out a short chuckle that sounded like Floki's. "This one is just a bit cleaner, isn't she?" Helga tweeted, while nudging her daughter's cheek, both of them laughing heartily.

Frida laughed with them and let one of her feet escape the warm water, mindlessly letting her finger travel the surface of the water. Her thoughts wandered.

When you leave one home behind to find another, it is only natural that you will see change in your life. Most often, this is why people leave places. To see change. In Frida's case... well, she had not exactly been given the choice of whether to leave her old home behind or not, but as she sat there in the warm bath, the smell of rose hip steaming lovely into the air around her, she realized that a lot of things had changed. Of course, there had been the big stuff like the different language, the colder weather, the faith, the laws of life and such. But there had also been smaller changes, changes that she had not really noticed beneath all of the seemingly more important things.

Things as appearance, or, hygiene was one of those small things. Frida giggled to herself as her mind wandered back to her first night here in Kattegat, when she had just arrived from England. The very first thing she was told to do was actually to have a bath! And Lagertha had come to her room, groomed her hair and offered her clothes, while Frida had not thought this peculiar at all. This would have been considered so very strange, if a king had done this in England or in any of the kingdoms that she had ever heard of.

Frida had also started cleaning her teeth. Ragnar had showed her how he did it one of the first nights they had spent together. This was also considered strange back in her old home, or at least a thing not exactly of the common folk. But there was a certain want for cleanliness here in the North, as was very obvious to any foreigner that would happen to stumble upon a Norseman. Any Northumbrian would be shocked to hear that it is normal to bathe once a week here.

 _Can you imagine? Once in every seven days!_

Frida let her eyes wander back to Helga and Angrboda and watched the two of them with a warm heart.

She simply loved being around Helga, and she had been pleased when Ragnar told her that she was to stay there for the night. Tomorrow was the day, the most important day in Frida's life.

She was going to get married to the man she loved, to a Norseman, to the king of Denmark, to Ragnar Loðbrók, and she could not wait. Impatience had her feeling very anxious, and she was sure that she would not be able to sleep at all tonight as her thoughts were blazing around in her head, expectations and fear fighting against each other in her mind.

She had no idea what exactly to expect from tomorrow, she had never experienced a Norse wedding before, and now she was to get wedded herself, even becoming the queen of this land. Although she felt a certain want for running away, for hiding until it was all over, she felt in her heart a grand wish for standing in front of Ragnar right now, for promising to be by his side for the rest of her life.

Frida thanked the servant that handed her a horn of mead as she was sitting in the bath tub, her eyes still soft on the mother and daughter at the fire pit. Angrboda was a very beautiful little girl.

She had her mother's big round eyes and the prettiest curly hair, but her air was like her father's, intangible and strange, and she always seemed to understand everything around her even though she was still just a toddler.

Frida's eyes were still on the child when the sound of a howling wolf crept its way into the house from the forest outside, and she watched as the child's eyes grew big and a smile parted her lips. Frida heard the servant hiss out nervously at the door, when another howl, closer this time, sounded around them.

"It is just Freke," Frida recognized, and she locked her eyes with Helga's who nodded smilingly, "Let him in."

When the door was opened, Freke came creeping inside and shook his fur dry from the drops of rain that lingered on his silvery fur. He quickly scanned the room and when his eyes connected with Frida's, he trotted over to lick her hand gently, like he always did.

A wild laugh left Angrboda's lips, and Frida looked at her clapping her small hands together, staring at Freke with round eyes. Helga smiled at her daughter, but Frida noticed that her hands clasped tighter around her child, a quick nervousness flushing over her face.

"I'm sorry Helga, I just know that he will howl all night, if I don't…"

But Frida's words came to an abrupt stop when a fragile baby voice sounded between them: "Wolf!"

Frida glared at Angrboda whose eyes were still stuck on Freke.

"Wolf, wolf!" she chirped again, her voice stronger this time, the smile on her little face even wider.

Frida raised her eyes to stare at Helga, who looked like she was in shock, her eyes bigger than ever as she was glaring down at her child with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Ye… Yes, Angr," Helga stuttered, "It is a wolf."

Helga's eyes traveled over to Frida, and a wicked smile started growing on her lips. "Her first word…"

The room was silent except for the sound of wooden logs burning in the fire and Angrboda's cute little laughter.

Their silence was only broken when a servant girl stepped into the room: "My lady, a gift has been send to you from the village."

Frida turned her eyes to look at the servant who held what seemed to be a large bundle of dark clothing in her arms, and she sat up in the tub, reaching over to grab some linen to dry her body with. The air felt cool on her skin as she stepped out of the warm water, curious to see what somebody had sent her.

"Who is it from?" Helga asked in a strained voice as she struggled to keep her daughter from assaulting Freke with kisses, and Frida received the bundle with the same question in her mind.

It held something soft, and she carefully uncovered it.

"I must not tell you, I was asked only to say that it was for the wolf-girl," the servant said in a small voice.

"Thank you," Frida smiled at the servant before she hissed out in amazement as something very white was revealed in her hands.

She let the dark wrapping clothes fall to the ground as she held out an enormous white fur that she quickly recognized to be of a wolf. The fur was beautiful and very soft, Frida was sure she had never seen anything so white before in her life, not even newly fallen snow could outshine it. She held it up in front of her, and all the women in the room sighed out in admiration. It was very large, and she could tell that it had been handled gently, the fur perfectly groomed to a silky softness. Frida felt a strong warmth spread over her body as she turned around to face Helga, holding out the fur for her to see it better.

"It is beautiful," she breathed, "Perfect for tomorrow."

Frida nodded with big eyes and swung it around her shoulders, her heart beating violently in her chest. Its warmth quickly spread over her skin as she swirled around herself.

 _For the wolf-girl,_ she thought to herself and a big smile curled her lips.

It could only be from Ragnar. She felt her blood racing through her veins as excitement shot from the pit of her stomach, her baby stirring happily inside of her.

"Oh, Helga, I cannot wait!" Frida sang out as she danced over to the fire pit, followed closely by Freke, "Now, I won't be able to sleep for certain."

Helga grinned at her with loving eyes, and she rose to her feet to walk over to the kettle that hung over the fire and she lifted its lid, fragrant steam clouding wildly from it.

"This will help you relax," she smiled as she poured the liquid into a horn, "It is made from Freyja's hair."

Frida received the horn gladly, and its lovely smell filled her nostrils immediately, sending shivers over her body. She recognized the scent of the flower Helga had mentioned, Freyja's hair, and she took a small sip, honey sweetness spreading over her tongue. Calmness already wrapped around her body, and she thanked Helga before taking another sip of the milky substance.

"We should go to bed soon," Helga smiled as she stroked Angrboda's hair gently, "We will rise early tomorrow, I want to have enough time to braid your hair."

Frida nodded into her horn, her thoughts still racing inside her head.

She was wondering what Ragnar was doing and whether he was just as nervous as her. She pictured what it would feel like to step onto the boat tomorrow, knowing that she was going to sail towards Kattegat's harbor, where she was going to wed Ragnar there on the beach. She wondered how the beach would look, how many people were going to be there, and how the ceremony was to be like.

Helga had not told her much about it, she had only told her that it differed greatly from wedding to wedding. There was not one way of doing it, like there was in England, and it depended on both the couple and the person who was to speak for them.

This had made Frida a bit nervous as she pictured Floki in front of her, his dark eyes smiling at her devilishly and his slanting posture towering over her small figure. A distant memory suddenly grew strong in her head, as she remembered the first time she had laid her eyes upon Floki, and a shiver ran down her spine.

She had thought him to be the Devil himself, his eyes scouting the inside of the church and falling upon her face like a predator, only the wish for killing prevalent in his eyes.

Frida felt Helga's hand on her arm, and she shook her head to do away with the pictures for her eyes.

"Talk to me," Helga breathed in a comforting smile, Angrboda already sleeping safely in her arms.

Frida exhaled deeply. She did not wish to insult her husband.

"I am nervous for the ceremony," Frida whispered, "Because, Floki…"

Her words silenced, and she looked down on Freke that had placed himself at her feet, not knowing how to finish her sentence. She dared not to look at Helga.

She heard her breathing out. "You should not worry about my husband, he has taken great pride in Ragnar choosing him to speak for you."

Frida felt Helga's arm around her shoulder.

"Trust me, he will do good."

Frida raised her eyes to Helga's comforting ones, and she smiled weakly. "I always felt like he did not like me with Ragnar, that he did not trust my intentions," Frida whispered honestly, her heart heavy in her chest all of a sudden.

She watched Helga smiling at her while slowly shaking her head. "Floki has always been more careful with people from other lands than Ragnar. And while it is true that he at first could not believe that the gods had chosen you to be here with us, I am certain that he does now. The signs have merely been too strong to believe otherwise."

Frida stared at the floor in front of her while drinking the rest of the relaxing brew in her horn.

Helga's words did comfort her. She believed her.

"Now," Helga said as she rose to her feet, "Let us go to bed. The beginning of the rest of your life awaits us in the morning. Your dreams will be untroubled, I promise. That is the magic of Freyja's hair."

And Helga was right.

Frida's dreams were sweet and happy, filled with pictures of her riding a giant white wolf between Kattegat's beeches, closely followed by Ragnar on a majestic fiery steed, the two of them laughing out in the silent forest.

She awoke when she heard the small sound of a baby girl chuckling, and the last thing she remembered from her dream was a couple of piercing blue eyes that had her heart beating deeply with love.


	25. Chapter 25

**Hi guys! Happy Loki's day yesterday! Enjoy!**

* * *

Frida had her eyes closed most of the time as she was being sailed to Kattegat's harbor.

She was sitting on a grand stool that had been placed in the middle of the boat, which was covered in many different kinds of flowers of the early fall, making the boat seem almost fairytale like with the high snake heads towering up both at the end and at the front of the boat. Frida herself was dressed in the most beautiful dress she had ever seen.

It was a very clean white with golden stitches over her chest that held many symbols, some she knew and some she did not, and over her shoulders she wore the great white wolf fur that she had received the night before. Helga had wanted her to put on many types of jewelry, but Frida had decided only to wear her own golden necklace, the pink stone falling elegantly over the fine silk beneath it.

Her hair had been soaked in perfumes, and the sweet fragrance lingered heavy in her nostrils even out here on the sea, though most of her hair had been braided. Helga had decorated it with many flowers, Frida recognized the purple ones to be Freyja's hair, and fine golden chains that were so pretty and thin Frida could have sworn that they were made by dwarves.

Her fingers had been dipped in a white liquid that Helga had not been able to explain to her what was, which had resulted in her finger tips completely colored white.

All in all, she felt very beautiful, all dressed in white and gold on her way to her wedding ceremony. But she too felt very nervous, anxious almost, as she dared to open her eyes and gaze on the harbor that was only coming closer and closer. Every fiber in her body was awake and stirring, every emotion her heart could produce pumped through her veins, and she wrapped her arms around her big stomach as she felt the baby stir around in there, joyfully.

When Frida saw the huge crowd of people gathered on the beach she quickly turned her eyes to Freke who was lying at her feet, waiting calmly.

She clasped her fingers around her necklace and whispered: "Frigg… Fill me with your calm, nurture my heart as I step into this marriage with Ragnar, let me be a good wife to him, and let never the bond we sow today rip. Please."

As the sound of the crowd on the beach grew louder, Frida watched as Freke sat up in the boat to see the oncoming harbor. Frida finally dared to lift her eyes too now, and she stared at the beach in amazement as she tried to count how many people were present.

But it was an impossible task, and she breathed out shakenly as she heard the rower behind her voice that she was to be ready for harboring.

The sound of music playing soon snaked its way into her ears, and she bit her lip when the edge of the boat touched the bridge. While keeping her eyes on the wooden planks of the bridge Frida climbed out of the boat, and she made a short whistling sound, ordering Freke to stay close to her. His light silver eyes rested on her face for a quick moment before they both turned to face the crowd before them.

Frida's legs felt heavy as she walked along the bridge, what seemed to be a thousand eyes were stuck on her figure, and she wished for nothing more than to be at Ragnar's side already. Her cheeks flushed red as the villagers sighed out when she passed them, and she heard them mumbling to each other that she looked like a goddess even, as she and Freke made their way across the sand.

Frida kept her eyes on the flower port that she knew was her destination.

Several villagers started cheering for her, compliments flying at her and warming her cheeks even more, and she kept reminding herself to breathe as panic started to travel over her skin.

And that was when she saw him.

He was standing only a few feet away from her at the flower port, his blue eyes glowing more than ever with a light that seemed not of this world, her favorite crooked smile curling his lips.

She hissed out nervously.

He was dressed in light garments too, a giant white fur also covering his shoulders, and he looked more handsome than ever, standing there, waiting for her. When their eyes connected she felt an explosion of heat in her insides, and she felt his gaze calming her rapidly, his air full of love and admiration.

Frida could not help it but to run to him, closing the distance between them, and a loud roaring of laughter and excitement sounded through the crowd of villagers surrounding them as she crashed her body into his.

Ragnar chuckled breathily in her ear, and Frida buried her face in the white fur on his shoulder, her cheeks redder than ever.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he whispered silently to her, his arms hugging tightly around her, and she felt her heart grow inside her chest, beating almost achingly with love for the man in front of her.

When she heard the clearing of a throat, she quickly took a step back even though she wished to stay hidden there in Ragnar's fur until it was all over, and she smiled shyly at Floki who was looking at them both, his eyes serious and encircled with blackness. He nodded his head at her, a quick curl on his lips, before his eyes turned to Ragnar who returned the motion.

When Floki threw his arms in the air, the crowd respectfully grew silent, and Frida's heartbeat was so strong in her chest she was sure everyone else could hear it too.

"Fellow Norsemen!" Floki's voice rang out over the crowd, "We are here to witness the uniting of these two beings, our king Ragnar Loðbrók and our coming queen Frida…"

A dramatic pause had Frida inhaling sharply, as Floki eyed her, before he continued: "You stand before not only me today, but before the gods, of whom we ask to bend these two hearts in an inextricable knot from this day and to their very last."

Frida felt Ragnar taking her hand, his skin burning on hers as Floki held out two large horns that were filled with mead for them to drink.

"I ask all of you, our All-father Odin, Frigg, Thor, Freyja, Frej and Loki to shower them with your blessings, let these liquids fill them and be a sign for prosperity, and let them always walk together, even when they reach your halls and valleys."

Frida felt Ragnar squeezing her hand lightly, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him putting his horn to his lips. She quickly followed his movement, and drank heavily from her horn, her eyes closing as she felt the warm sweetness travel down her throat.

When she could not drink more and was about to lower the horn, she felt it being pushed to her lips again, and her eyes turned to gaze into Floki's, who was lifting her horn as he whispered: "All of it."

Frida's eyes widened as the mead filled her stomach, and she struggled to reach the bottom of the long horn, earning a couple of small chuckles from Ragnar's sons who were standing over to the right of Ragnar.

Her breathing was heavy when she finally finished drinking, and she looked up at Ragnar who was smirking at her teasingly, before his eyes rolled back to Floki.

"I ask you to accept the gifts we will bring forth in the course of this wedding as a token of our devotion for you, and I ask of you to bless their love for each other always. The swords…"

Frida watched as Ubbe and Hvitserk shot out from the crowd like daggers, both of them holding a sword in their hands. Ubbe handed Ragnar one while Frida was given hers by Hvitserk.

"Frida," Floki breathed, "You must hold this sword as a sign of your trust in your husband and your sons."

Frida eyed the heavy black sword in her hands with big eyes and she sank hard when she felt Ragnar's eyes piercing at her skin.

"And you must present this new sword to the groom as a sign of devotion and protection in your coming life together. It transfers the power of our All-father to the groom."

Frida held out the heavy sword in front of her, her eyes clinging to Ragnar's.

His lips parted into a wide smile when he took hold of her sword, and Frida accepted his, and the crowd around them roared cheerfully. Her heart almost skipped a beat when she heard Freke howling too next to them, and she could not help but to laugh out, her eyes never leaving Ragnar's.

Floki placed a ring on the tip of both swords before he turned to Ragnar and cupped his face with both hands, their faces only inches apart. "Ragnar, do you swear to me and to all the gods that you wish to marry this woman?"

Frida looked closely as the two men stared at each other, and she forgot how to breathe as anticipation grew inside her.

"I swear it with all my heart."

Frida closed her eyes and finally let out a relieved breath, before Floki turned to her, cupping her face just as he had done with Ragnar.

She embraced his piercing glare, his eyes only inches from hers, as his voice sounded, serious and proud: "Frida, do you swear that you want to marry this man?"

Frida held his eyes for a moment and was glad when she saw no regret travel over them. "I swear it, in front of you and the gods."

Floki narrowed his eyes quickly at her, and he chuckled out and made a small jump when he let his hands fall from her face.

Frida's heart was pounding inside her chest when she turned her gaze to Ragnar, and she smiled sweetly at him when she saw that his eyes were wet. She felt like screaming from joy, the baby inside of her moving around like never before.

She saw Ragnar taking off the ring of his sword, and she quickly followed his gesture, the crowd around them cheering wildly. Her body was on fire when Floki took the swords from them, and she noticed Ragnar's hands were shaking when he reached over to take her hand, before gliding the ring slowly onto her finger.

It felt cool on her skin, and she felt something wet travel down her chin.

She too took hold of his hand, and placed the ring on his finger eagerly, warmth tightening her throat gently.

As soon as the ring was in place, Ragnar launched himself forward, and she hissed out in surprise when she felt him lifting her into the air while roaring with excitement. All the surrounding villagers cheered with him, and Frida laughed out heartwarmingly at the many happy faces around them, before Ragnar put her down again, crashing his lips upon hers.

His lips were passionate and eager, and she sighed out at him as warmth shot out through her entire body.

They were together now, married in front of the gods, and she could not have felt happier.

When their lips parted, Ragnar cupped her head while he pressed his forehead against hers, his crystals piercing into hers while he chuckled breathily.

"I love you," he whispered with a proud grin on his face.

"I love you too."

"Husband."


	26. Chapter 26

Frida had never experienced anything like a Norse wedding before in her life. The day had proceeded with lightning speed, and Frida had enjoyed herself more than ever.

After the ceremony, several bonfires had been lit on the beach where whole pigs had been roasted, clouding the whole village with a delicious smoky fragrance, while the best singers had gathered to perform very strong vocal songs that made most of the women in the audience wet their cheeks. They had all feasted outside, and Frida was very surprised that several of her and Ragnar's closest friends had actually held small speeches to them, praising their love and marriage.

Especially Lagertha's words had touched Frida's heart, as they were as pure and genuine as her own person.

When the sun had dived down behind the western mountains and shone its last golden rays over Kattegat's harbor, most of the villagers had gathered in the long-hall which had been decorated heavily with flowers, candles and fragrant herbs, the entire room feeling like a dream.

A really good one, to say the least.

Frida had sat down at the big fire pit in the middle of the room, and she could not help but to smile from one ear to the other as she gazed around upon her friends, her family, as they were all gathered there. Ragnar at her right, Torstein, Rollo, Bjørn, Helga, Floki, Lagertha, Athelstan, all of them, were casually sitting around the fire, their bellies full of wonderful food, wine, and lots of honey mead. A couple of young girls were dancing around them, naked, only furs covering their hair, while a slow flute was playing from a corner making the atmosphere very enjoyable.

Frida sighed out, satisfied, when Ragnar reached his arms over to pull her closer to him, placing her between his legs so her back rested against his chest, and she looked up at him, his smile smug and his eyes glowing. He placed a kiss on her hair before he rested his head on her shoulder, forcing honey warmth to drip down over her body like lovely hot water.

She felt like the luckiest woman alive.

"Floki, why don't you tell us a story?" Ragnar voiced out behind her, earning the whole group to turn their heads to the dark-eyed Viking at their left.

Floki narrowed his eyes at his king, and a small snicker sounded from his lips. Frida took a healthy sip of her sweet horn before she felt his eyes turning to her, the corner of his mouth curling teasingly.

"I would love to, but I think our new queen should decide which one. Don't you agree?"

Frida felt everyone's eyes turning to her, and she cleared her throat, still not used to her new title. She felt Ragnar nudging her shoulder.

"Hm," she breathed with her finger on her lip and her eyes lingering on the dark circles around Floki's eyes. "There is a god that I know very little of, of whom people seldomly speak with affectionate words, I have noticed."

She watched him tilt his head at her, his smile growing. "And who might that be?"

She could sense that his air changed with her words, and he took a small sip from his horn without breaking his eyes from hers. Ragnar chuckled breathily into her ear.

"Loki," she answered.

Floki sniggered devilishly and scooted forward, the shadows on his face dancing vividly, as he raised his eyebrows at her. Frida heard Athelstan laughing out, but she kept her stare locked on Floki as he looked around at the others, smugness heavy on his face.

"Loki," he repeated slowly with a mysterious tone to his voice, "The sly one."

His eyes hovered over the group, entertainment shining from his entire presence.

"He is a great giant, the one who bound the genus of the giants and gods, the blood brother of Odin himself. Of course, he is known to have betrayed the gods with the fall of Baldr, but he also did many great things. Things that have been forgotten by us people here in Midgård."

Floki's eyes rested on Ragnar for a moment, before he continued, his voice thick with pride.

Frida found herself liking his way of addressing the gods, and she listened carefully to his words.

"Legend has it that when Thor lost his powerful Mjølnir, Loki was the only one who could help him. The gods asked him for help, as they were powerless in their search for it, but Loki quickly realized who the sinner was. So he rode out to Udgård, the world in which the giants live, and he found the mighty hammer well hid below in the ground by the noisy giant Trym. But Trym would not give the hammer away too easily. No... He wanted to sit between the gods in Asgård himself, so he told Loki that he would only give him the hammer if he could marry Freyja, the most beautiful goddess of them all."

Floki sniggered as his eyes travelled to Frida. She felt her face heating, her cheeks reddening.

"But Freyja was angered by Loki's proposal, because she did not wish to marry a giant, and Loki therefore had to come up with a plan that would fool Trym into giving them Mjølnir. And he did."

Floki rose to his feet now, and he started circling the fire pit, his movements dramatic.

"He had the most ingenious plan. He dressed Thor himself in Freyja's dress, covered him in jewelry, braided his hair, and traveled back to Trym, saying that the goddess had accepted the offer. The loud Trym, of course, could not understand why Freyja's voice was so deep and manly, but Loki told him that she had not slept for seven days in anticipation of their wedding. He convinced the giant, he fooled him, and when Trym handed who he thought were Freyja the hammer, Thor ripped off his disguise and killed them all."

Floki quickly pulled out his axe from his belt and smashed it upon the stones of the fire pit, the noise startling several members of the assembled group.

Torstein lifted his horn at Floki as he shouted "Skål!"

Frida too mumbled out a quiet cheer, but there was still something she had not understood about this god, about his importance in the lives of the Norse.

"But Floki," she raised. "I have heard people speak his name in the nights, when darkness has fallen and the sun is no longer shining. Always during the night, and never in the bright hours of the day. Why?"

She felt Athelstan stare at her, intrigued.

Floki made a small nervous jump and chuckled out maliciously, before he stepped closer to her and bent his face down to look directly into her eyes. She could feel his warm breath on her face.

"Because, dear Frida, he is the god of fire."

Frida furrowed her brows as she took his words in, inhaling them like the smoke from the fire, and she turned her eyes to stare into the smoldering light in front of her.

How could the sly one too be the god of fire?

Floki chuckled out above her, turning to circle the group once more. "That is why you have to be careful with his being, for fire is something we cannot live without, yet it has to be controlled cautiously."

Frida felt Ragnar tensing behind her, and she turned her face to see him staring at Floki with hard eyes. She felt like there was something that went by her nose, something lingering between the two of them that she could not point out. But when she reached up her hand to cup Ragnar's chin, his eyes fell down upon her and a smile immediately broke out over his lips, and he quickly bent down to kiss her.

When their lips parted, Ragnar cupped her head too with his hand, holding her face close to his, his eyes piercing delicately at her own.

Frida smiled questioningly at him, as she sensed his air changing rapidly.

"Let's go," he whispered with his eyes shining passionately, "I want you to come with me."

Ragnar jumped to his feet, surprisingly quick for a man that had been drinking mead all day, and he held out his hand for her to take. Frida giggled out girlishly as she too rose to her feet, while several of the men around the fire whistled at them in a teasing manner.

Frida laughed out at them as Ragnar started to pull her away from the fire, but she was as surprised as them when Ragnar did not lead her to their bedroom but instead heaved her in the direction of the door leading outside.

"Ragnar? What are…" she started, but her words got lost somewhere in her throat when he broke into a run, pushing the door open for them to leave the long-hall and stepping out into the cool night air.

He did not look at her as he pulled her along the path away from the longhouse, and she giggled out nervously when his grip on her hand tightened and they moved further into the dark night, distancing themselves from the lights of the village.

Where was he taking her?


	27. Chapter 27

When Ragnar had grabbed a fat goose and led her down past the leaved gate, Frida knew exactly where he was taking her.

And she felt her heart beating happily to the sound of their footsteps on the gravel beneath them as they made their way through the black forest, her eyes on the small light that was flickering from between the trees.

There was something very mysterious and strange about the meadow of sacrifice during the night, something inexplicably vivid and real about the air there that made the woods seem to be breathing around them, alive.

Frida stepped cautiously into the meadow and she eyed the tall wooden figures as if for the first time again, a warmth that had become very familiar to her ever since she had laid her eyes upon Ragnar for the first time glowing through her body. Ragnar led her straight through the circling figures over to the great rock that was placed in the middle of the meadow, and Frida widened her eyes when she saw all of the offerings there.

She had never seen the rock filled with such delights. Bowls and plates covered in food, jars and horns almost pouring over with wine, mead, and ale, flowers and herbs carefully gathered in between it all. All of it placed there for them, Ragnar and her, in a wish to thank the gods for everything they had done for them. For bringing them together despite the great sea that had divided them for so long.

Frida felt her heart swelling in her chest and tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. It was so beautiful, so natural, so real.

She let her hands sway over her big stomach, and whispered a silent thanks to her friends and family that had strained themselves this much to bring joy to her and Ragnar's life together.

It was overwhelming.

Frida watched Ragnar moving cautiously around the different figures, reaching his hands out to touch every single one of them, and he stopped only when he reached the statue of Freyr. Frida smiled sweetly as she watched her husband look up on the face of the figure, his hand reaching up to his chest, and he closed his eyes, a small smile curling his lips.

"Join me, love," he breathed into the silent night, and Frida calmly walked over to lay her hand on top of Ragnar's, both of them looking up at Freyr's face that was moving with shadows caused by the fire at the rock.

"Freyr," Frida whispered as she closed her eyes, the ambient of the forest heating her skin delicately, a soothing calm falling upon her as the tree tops swayed with the wind above them.

She heard Ragnar humming into her ear, and she felt him laying his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him and kissing her cheek lightly.

"Freyr, we have come here in the night to offer you a sacrifice. Please accept it as a thanks for all the riches you have rained upon us, upon me and my family." Ragnar let his arm drop down before he walked over to the great rock, returning with a small clay bowl and the goose.

Frida looked at the eyes of the goose, surprised that it did not make a single sound. As if it knew what its future held, as if it acknowledged it.

She raised her eyes to the statue when Ragnar slit its throat, and she heard the warm blood drip into the bowl, the goose's wings flapping helplessly at its sides. Her limbs felt smoother than usual, her blood warm in her veins, as Ragnar handed her the bowl from which a little warm cloud steamed against the cool night air.

When Ragnar had spread the wings of the goose at the statue's feet, his eyes turned to hers, a loving spark glowing from them, almost shining at her as she held the warm bowl between their bodies.

They did not speak, but there were many things said between them as Ragnar reached up his hand and dipped two fingers into the dark read liquid. Frida closed her eyes when she felt him stroke his dripping fingers across her cheeks, leaving a burning sensation on her skin where he touched her. She could smell the blood on her face, the fresh iron fragrance heavy in her nostrils as she opened her eyes to have hers lock with Ragnar's, his blue crystals staring into her soul, piercing through all of her layers and right into her inner most secret places.

She felt him seeing her, truly seeing everything she was, as she stood there, and she did not let her eyes fall from his when she too dipped a finger into the warm liquid.

Ragnar exhaled deeply when she let her finger travel down over his face, from the line of his hair down over his nose and further to his lips which he separated lightly as her finger traced them. He took a step closer to her and dipped his thumb into the bowl before raising it once more to stroke it over her parted lips, yet another heating sensation pricking her skin, and she heard herself whimper out over his hand.

She saw Ragnar's jaw clenching at her reactions to his touch, and she too let her finger dip into the bowl once more before coloring the skin under his eyes, the dark lines making his eyes shine out even more in the darkness that surrounded them here in the middle of the forest.

When Frida reached up to cup his chin with her hand, Ragnar immediately closed the distance between them, their lips colliding roughly.

They soon moved swiftly together in the night, as if their bodies were dancing to a secret rhythm of the forest.

"They are watching us, Ragnar," she heard herself breathe silently into the night with Ragnar over her. She felt his hand pulling her chin upwards, his eyes soon staring into hers. "I know," he whispered.

A wide and satisfied smile grew on her lips when she felt his limbs loosen over her, and she soon turned around to look up at him, his eyes still black from the hunger they both had felt for each other.

Another kind of warmth flushed her body when Ragnar let his eyes fall to her face, and she watched his lips curl lovingly when she reached up her hand to cup his face, where dried blood still lingered in small dark clots.

They stayed there for a while until their breathing had calmed, and Ragnar rose to his feet, reaching his hand down for her to grab. Frida felt warmth travel down her thighs when she too got on her feet, and she quickly lifted her eyes to have a final glance at Freyr in front of them.

The small fire at the great rock had almost burned out, and the shadows on the statue's face now seemed to have calmed.

She exhaled in affection when she felt Ragnar's arms snake around her from behind, his chin resting upon her shoulder and his eyes raised to Freyr's face too. She heard herself chuckle as he hugged her, her heart almost boasting from the love she felt running in her veins. Ragnar raised his hand to stroke her hair, tucking it away behind her ear, and he kissed her cheek gently.

This had been the most perfect day.

Frida let her eyes travel over Freyr's figure, and they rested on the lower part of it, her lips curling slightly.

"Tell me something," she whispered sweetly as they stood there. "I never understood why Freyr has three legs."

Ragnar chuckled in her ear.

"He hasn't," he smiled widely.

Frida turned her face to furrow her brows at him, but when she saw the teasing look in his eyes and the smug smile that was plastered on his lips, her mouth opened in surprise as she realized what it then had to be.

"Is it his…?"

Ragnar laughed out and took a step towards the path leading back to the village.

She turned around to see him shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head at her. "You now what they say about us men of the North.

Frida raised her eyebrow questioningly at the suddenly boyish looking man in front of her, a smug smile curling Ragnar's lips.

Frida giggled girlishly at his words, and heat flushed her cheeks.

Well, to be honest ...


	28. Chapter 28

**Fun fact about the influence of the Vikings on the English language:**

 **Did you know that the verb "to take" is actually from Old Norse? The speakers of Old English used the Germanic word "niman" (like the Germans use "nehmen" today), but they replaced it with "take", which comes from Norse "at tage." Cool, right? :-D (Or am I the only one who is a complete and utter nerd?!)**

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It was the second day of Frida and Ragnar's wedding, and the whole village as well as the guests that had come to join them in their celebration were still gathered more or less around the longhouse, enjoying themselves however they felt like.

Some were spending their time playing board games, others held wrestling competitions, in which Frida had heard Bjørn and Rollo to have had quite the match, while other villagers were simply spread around the marketplace and having a good time in the sun chatting with their relatives and friends.

As Frida wanted to spend as much time with Ragnar as possible, because she could simply not get enough of being in his presence, she had joined him and many of their friends at a table just outside the longhouse, where they were currently playing a drinking game. It had not come to her as a surprise that it was actually the norm in Norse culture that weddings would persist of huge amounts of strong beverages, let alone playing games that encouraged heavy drinking.

Frida had placed herself strategically, between Athelstan and Ragnar, so that they each had a woman on the other side of them, counteracting her having to join their game. She did not like being too drunk with such a big belly, as she would have to relieve herself all the time.

She was being lazy.

"Ok, we all know this game, yes?" Torstein called out from the other side of the table while he waved his arm in the air for attention, his voice already rather sluggish for a man that was about to be in a drinking contest, and Frida giggled to herself when she saw how his eyes rolled around in his head.

"We're all paired up, woman and man. When it is your turn, the woman will start drinking while the man recites a poem. When she cannot drink anymore, the horn will be passed to the man, who has to finish it while the woman finishes the poem. The pair who can drink the most without sounding drunk wins, agreed?"

Frida looked at Torstein with big eyes, and she heard Athelstan sighing out next to her. She turned her head to see his despondent expression, and she laughed heartwarmingly at him, while she padded him encouragingly on the shoulder.

"Yeah, prepare yourself, priest," Floki snickered from the other end of the table, and laughter broke out from all around the table.

Athelstan rolled his head on his shoulders, tilting it from side to side as if he was about to become violent, and Frida shook her head at him, smiling widely. This was going to be fun.

"Frida has agreed to be the judge of how well-spoken we are, so shut up when the queen talks," Torstein's voice flared, and Frida blushed lightly as his friendly eyes locked with hers.

"And no favoring!" Rollo muttered, making Frida turn her eyes to him. "Just because he fucks a lot doesn't mean he drinks a lot."

A smug smile spread across Rollo's lips as he raised his eyebrows at Frida, and she widened her eyes while blushing heavily, earning a couple of snickers from around the table.

"Careful you're not already losing points there, brother," Ragnar smiled, and Frida felt a slight nudge on her thigh.

"Alright," Torstein laughed. "Let's have Floki and Helga start, shall we?"

Frida was very surprised to see how much the women around the table could actually drink. Floki was already half way through the poem when Helga passed him the horn, and she did not seem even out of breath when she continued the verse:

"The ruler of Danes chose him the doughty,  
courage is known when the craven flee,  
in the tumult of battle he needs trusty fighters,  
conquest follows king who may count on his men."

The whole table cheered when Floki finished the horn, and it was soon passed on to the pair next to them, the Swedes Inge and Ake, for whom it did not take long either to drown the sweet liquids of the horn. Next up were Athelstan and Lagertha, and Frida could not help but to listen carefully to his rhythmic words, as if almost enchanted by them as he spoke:

"And Freyja said, triumph to some, and treasure to others,  
to many wisdom and skill in words, fair winds to the sailor,  
to the singer his art, and a manly heart to many a hero."

The horn was passed to him, and he did quite good, earning him a couple of acknowledging nods from some of the men around the table. And so the game continued, and while Frida listened eagerly to the many stories that were being told, she was surprised at the length of the game. It was not until the sun was on its way down over the western mountains that the game ended, with Rollo and his paired woman as the winners.

Frida would have loved for Ragnar to win over his brother, just to shut his mouth a bit, but she had had to deem him too drunk when he had been unable to pronounce the word warrior without cutting the ending off. She was happy to finally hear a Norseman having difficulties pronouncing their tongue-twisting language too.

When they had all feasted in the long-hall and the kids had been put to sleep, Frida had joined Athelstan at a table, and he was trying to teach her the rules of a board game that she had seen a lot of the villagers play in the course of the wedding. It was a game called hnefatafl, a word that she had simply given up trying to pronounce.

However, the game had proven to be rather difficult as it centered on strategic movements in a shield wall, something that she had absolutely no idea of how to grasp, so both of them had leaned back in their chairs with their feet up on the table while they casually listened to Floki's usual story telling from over by the fire pit.

He was currently telling the story of how Freyr and Freyja had married, a story that Frida found to be very unusual.

"Athelstan, tell me something. Weren't Freyja and Freyr brother and sister?" Frida asked with her eyes on Floki's dramatic movements as he danced around the fire with swinging arms.

"Why, yes?" Athelstan answered before taking a sip of his horn, his eyes warm on her face when she turned her gaze to him.

Frida furrowed her brows. "And they married?"

She watched him nod his head at her with a silly expression flushing his face, a thin line of sweat covering his nose because of the heat circling in the long-hall. Frida shook her head lightly with a surprised chuckle sounding from her lips.

"But that is…"

"Not how things are done in England, no," he finished in a chuckle, putting his horn down on the table.

Athelstan let his legs fall off the table before he leaned in closer to her, his eyes suddenly serious. "But they loved each other, Frida, deeply. They were not concerned with any set rules on marriage. They followed only the sounds of their hearts."

Frida furrowed her brows at him as she let his words sink in. It was strange to hear this from a man like him. She could see something travel over his eyes. She sensed his air changing slightly as she watched him, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know, it just seems…" Athelstan's words came to a stop.

He lowered his eyes to the floor in front of him, another pained light traveling across his eyes. Frida breathed silently as she watched his posture slanting a little, and she opened her mouth to say something, but she was at a loss for words.

She did not know what to say.

Athelstan sighed out heavily, and she could smell the stale perfume of alcohol steaming from his breath.

"Do you ever wonder if the Christians got the story wrong?" he asked her, his eyes burning.

Frida gulped down.

Before she could open her mouth to answer, he continued. "The Norse gods are so very old. They have been here on this Earth for a long time, a long time before Jesus Christ... And their way of doing things is just so much more..."

"Natural?" she tried in a small voice.

Athelstan narrowed his eyes at her, and he licked his lips slowly.

"Yeah," he breathed with heavy eyes. "Being here has made me question all the things that were so clear to me before, as if I am living another life, as if I am not the same that I was when I lived in England."

Frida felt a sting in her heart, a small glow of sorrow burning there.

"I never truly believed in Christ, as you well know," she said with her eyes falling to her lap. "But I never felt as alive as I do here. I never saw England as a home, but I feel like I'm home here. My mother…"

Frida's voice cracked.

She could feel Athelstan looking at her, but she could not get herself to raise her eyes from her lap. She felt something wet travel over her chin, and she quickly raised her hand to wipe the tear away, surprised that she could not speak openly about it without being affected in her heart.

When had she become this emotional?

Frida inhaled deeply before finally raising her eyes to meet his.

His eyes were soothing, and he reached his hand up to nudge her shoulder in encouragement.

She sighed. "King Ælla burned my mother for practicing witchcrafts. Had we lived here, she might…"

A tightening of her throat made Frida shut her lips once more, and she closed her eyes. This was embarrassing. Why had she even mentioned her mother?

Frida felt Athelstan lifting her chin with his hand, and she opened her eyes to see him smiling heartwarmingly at her, his air calm again.

"You are with friends here, my lady. I'm sure your mother would have wanted you to be here, you could not have married a greater man. Be he English or Norse."

She felt his words traveling through her body, soothing her gently and warming her heart. He was right. Her mother would have rejoiced had she known how well Frida's life had turned out.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "You are surrounded by friends and family here too, Athelstan. And the gods look after you, just as they do me."

She saw him tilting his head at her, while he weighed her words in his head. He reached over to grab his horn from the table and after having downed the rest of its contents, he rose to his feet while holding his hand out for her to grab.

"I am still haunted by the image of Jesus Christ. But that is my curse, not yours. Come, let's not spend the night on such serious matters, let us join the others."

And before Frida could object, he pulled her along to sit down at the fire pit where most of their friends were placed. Frida kept her eyes on Athelstan as he sat down beside Bjørn with a wide smile on his lips, and a line of concern carved her forehead as she watched a quick flash of pain over his eyes.

He hid his troubles very well, she knew that now.

Frida felt a pricking sensation on her cheek, and she turned her head to see Ragnar staring at her with his blue crystals, a questioning look on his face. Frida simply shook her head and forced a smile to curl her lips. This was indeed not the time for such serious matters.


	29. Chapter 29

**Thank you to everyone who followed this fic, I have never experienced reaching this many followers, and I am really excited that so many find this as interesting as myself :D I see that a lot of Americans read this, which I actually find to be very cool, considering the great... what do you say, cultural difference there is between the States and Denmark. I kind of feel an irrational want for you guys to pronounce "Rød grød med fløde," (funniest and cutest thing ever - check it out on You Tube) but I'll control myself. Sorry :)**

 **A huuuuge hug for those of you who have favorited this story too, that is simply heartwarming!**

 **And, of course, hugs and kisses for those of you who review (I LOVE reviews): especially a thanks to Silently Tearful and EllieWellyBear: you are the best!**

 **I'll shut up now - Please enjoy!**

* * *

The day after their wedding had ended, Frida woke up covered in sweat and with a beating heart.

Her dreams had been filled with vivid images, scenarios in which she had to use all of her strength and courage to push herself through a cloud of pain. A female voice still sounded for her ears, as it had done during the night, that she should look past the pain and rejoice over what came after. That when she would pass over the bridge, she would finally have reached her designated destination.

It had been cold in her dream, colder than anything she had ever imagined, and for her eyes she still sensed a white brightness burning sharply. Frida blinked a couple of times, adjusting her sore eyes to the light of her bedroom, and she immediately swayed her arms over her big belly, sensing her child kicking lively beneath her skin.

A smile grew over her lips as she was trying to calm her breath. It could not be long before she would lay her eyes upon the love that grew inside of her. She could not wait.

"Frida, love, come and…" Ragnar's voice sounded in exhilaration, as the door to the bedroom was swung open violently, her husband's eyes shining at her with life and eager.

His voice died off when their eyes connected, and he quickly strode across the floor and reached his arm up to cup her face, a line already carving his forehead.

"What is it?" he asked, concern thick in his voice.

Frida shook her head and smiled up at him, reaching her hand up to cup his. "Nothing to worry about, I just had another dream."

Ragnar sat down on the bed and gazed at her for a while, and she knew that he would not let her go that easily. She sighed. "I was passing a bridge, a painful bridge. But a voice told me that I had to cross it, so that I would reach where I had to be."

She watched as Ragnar's eyes fell to the floor, and the line over his forehead grew deeper. Frida started to bite on the nail on her thumb, awaiting his response.

The laughter of children was heard from outside the longhouse.

"Bifrost," Ragnar suddenly breathed, "Is the bridge between our world and that of the gods. Did the bridge contain all the colors of the world?"

Frida furrowed her brows and shook her head lightly. "No, it was a bright white. Brighter than anything I have ever seen."

Ragnar widened his eyes before piercing her with them. She felt a chilling shiver run down her spine as she saw something unfamiliar travel over his eyes.

Ragnar stood up and reached his hand out for her to grab. There was something strange about his air, something that she could not easily put her finger on. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Come, I want to show you…" he started, but he was soon interrupted.

"The first snow has fallen!" a loud childish voice suddenly rang for their ears, "Hurry, Frida, come and see!"

Frida and Ragnar both turned their eyes to see Hvitserk standing in the door with big eyes and pink cheeks, a huge smile over his lips and a small shield in his hands. Ubbe too peeped his head in and looked at them with wild eyes, and Frida could not help but to chuckle when she saw the passion that was shining from both their faces.

She heard Ragnar sigh out heavily, and she turned her gaze to see him rolling his eyes at the boys, chuckling in a small breath too.

"That is what I wanted to show you. Out, both of you!" he laughed while waving his hand at the boys in the door, and it was not long before she and Ragnar joined Ubbe and Hvitserk outside.

As Frida exited the long-hall, she had to cover her eyes. The brightness of the landscape in front of her was overpowering. She felt a slight nudging in her stomach, and she took Ragnar's hand as he led her through the door.

A thin layer of snow had covered the ground of Kattegat, and from the skies fell thousands of small flakes of white, adding even more to the powdery fluff on the ground. Frida blinked continuously with her eyes as she felt the cold surrounding her like a winter blanket.

She let out a quick laugh.

The village before her eyes seemed to have changed completely in the course of the night. Where colors of green and brown had yesterday covered the ground and the rooftops of the wooden buildings surrounding them now lay a fine white color of snow.

Frida looked up into the skies and sighed out in admiration as she saw the many snowflakes fall from the white clouds above her, and she felt their cold and wet traces on her cheeks as they fell upon her skin, melting away immediately. She felt Ragnar swooping his arms around her from behind, and he breathed laughingly into her ear as she stuck out her tongue to taste the snowy flakes.

They both turned around as the door behind them was opened again, and Bjørn greeted them with a smile on his lips as he stepped out into the winter weather with a huge fur wrapped around his torso.

"Yeah, this is the North for you, alright," he grinned before he set into a run, roaring at Ubbe and Hvitserk. Both boys cried out in surprise, and they barely escaped his grip by throwing themselves onto the ground, laughing hysterically.

"Now you're getting washed!" Bjørn roared, and Ragnar sighed out affectionately as Bjørn wrestled his brothers in the snow.

Frida giggled at them.

"Getting washed?" she raised at Ragnar, who shrugged his shoulders lightly as he hugged her even tighter, his hands gently cupping her big stomach.

"To be washed is to have snow put everywhere, on your face, under your clothes… It is quite excruciating, really."

Frida's eyes widened when she saw smugness flushing Ragnar's face and a curl in the corner of his mouth. She slowly started to shake her head at him, as she could feel his arms tensing around her. She could feel the child inside her stomach kicking her wildly as she watched her husband in horror, how he calculated their position compared to the biggest heap of snow around them.

"No, Ragnar," she whispered in a quick breath before she felt his arms leaving her.

"No!" she laughed out hysterically when he bent down to pick up some of the snow with his hands, and she quickly broke into a run, barely escaping the little white ball he threw at her.

Frida ran along the fence of the path leading to the market place, and she could feel childish panic filling her stomach as she heard his footsteps behind her. The snow beneath their feet made their footsteps even louder, soft crackling sounding below them as they both ran along the path. Frida felt her blood pumping happily in her veins, and she whined out in surprise when she almost crashed herself into a villager that was shoveling some of the snow away from his door.

But she did not stop when the villager shouted at her, she did not even hear what he said, as she quickly turned down a little alley. But she came to a sudden stop when she realized that the alley had been blocked by several barrels in front of her, and she turned around with terror stricken eyes.

A smug curl on Ragnar's lips had her open her mouth, but she knew that she could say nothing to stop him.

His eyes shone brightly at her, and he moved slowly towards her in his personal predatory manner, closing in on her with his breath clouding from his lips in the frozen cold air.

"Don't even think about it," she breathed as she saw him picking up another ball of snow while raising an eyebrow at her.

She felt her baby kick once more under her stretched out skin, and she took a few steps backwards, a smile slowly spreading over her lips.

Ragnar chuckled smugly.

"You cannot claim to be a true Norseman, if you have not tried to be washed," he smiled, steadily closing in on her, "What will the others say when they discover that their queen has not felt snow… under her armpits?"

Frida widened her eyes as she imagined the sensation, and she wrapped her arms around herself, while Ragnar laughed heartwarmingly at her.

In a quick movement, Ragnar slid to the side and threw a fast white ball at her.

Frida was way too slow to dive under it, and she cried out in surprise when she felt the coolness of the snow hit her face. She tasted the whiteness on her tongue, and she stumbled on something on the ground, falling down to dip her bottom into the powder on the ground.

She heard Ragnar laugh out and closing in on her, but just as she reached her hand up to wipe the snow away from her eyes, a sharp pain shot up her body from her pelvis.

She sucked in a quick breath when she felt a stream of wetness warming between her legs, and she looked down to see a rosy color clouding the snow around her. Panic flashed before her eyes as she turned to stare up at Ragnar, another sharp pain shooting through her body.

"What?" he laughed at her with warm eyes, but when he noticed the rosiness streaming from between her legs too, his face immediately fell.

Frida felt her heartrate fastening, the baby in her tummy stirring lively, and she felt her throat tightening, fear traveling over her like a shadow.

"By all the gods," Ragnar whispered in horror, "she is coming."

Frida did not know whether it was a statement or not, but as another pain flushed over her body, she cried out in helplessness.

Now?

The baby was coming now?

Ragnar rushed over to pull her from the ground, but she could do very little to move by herself, as the pain had almost paralyzed her legs already.

"Help!" Ragnar shouted loudly from the small alley, and Frida felt her heart sink a little when she heard the panic in his voice.

What was she going to do?

How was she going to do this?

How could she ever…

An indescribable and unimaginable pain waved over her body now, and she felt constrictions down in her pelvis, causing a horrendous scream to escape her lips. She sensed that someone came to her side, someone lifted her up, but she could not see anything through the white pain that had blurred her vision. Male voices hazed in her ears, but she could not tell what they were saying.

She only sensed the pain that repeatedly shot through her body like icy swords slicing through her flesh.

The only sentence she could make out behind the clouds of pain was the words: "Freyja, lay with her now, help her."


	30. Chapter 30

The pain was washing over her in waves, and she did not know how long she would be able to climb the bridge.

She clawed her fingers into the cold stones that she was crawling over, and she kept her eyes on the white entrance that she could barely make out on the other side. It felt like her stomach ripped open, like the skin of her thighs cracked and bled, leaving a trail of ghostly red flowers after her. When the bright light started disappearing, Frida's mind went wild. She felt panic wash over her as darkness surrounded her slowly, like a wolf encircling its pray, calculating when to attack.

She wanted to scream from her black drowning, but when she opened her mouth, nothing left her dry lips. She pushed herself to reach the entrance, because she knew that she had to, but she was going to slow. She was never going to make it.

Frida felt her body trembling heavily when the dark reached her, and she felt like she could hear people shouting beneath her, but their voices were distant and distorted. It sounded like hell was right there under her, like the screams were from the tortured men and women who never redeemed themselves during their lives on earth, forever cursed to burn in the dark pits of the underworld between demons and confounded souls.

But then she saw her.

Not many feet away from her stood the goddess, her goddess, in long silky ropes and shimmering jewels, reaching out her hand for Frida to take. But Frida was still weak, the darkness still paralyzed her, and she cried out helplessly with tears streaming down her cheeks that fell upon the cold floor beneath her, making the stones crumble.

The goddess did not move closer to her, but she held her hand out for her still, smiling down upon her with a calm light in her eyes. Her lips were crimson, the color of the blood pumping desperately in Frida's veins, and her skin was white as snow, her hair a creamy gold falling loosely down over her blossoming chest. Frida felt her heart grow large in her chest with admiration.

She wished for nothing more than to reach this woman, this goddess of another world, and she felt her muscles tensing as she strained herself to move just a little bit further over the stones beneath her.

The goddess would not come to her. Frida knew that she had to prove her strength in order for her to accept her. She knew that she had to show her that she really wanted nothing more in this world than to touch her if only just for a second. So Frida pushed her body forward, she pushed all the fear out of her heart as she slowly moved her body closer and closer, further and further into the bright light that hovered about the woman in front of her.

She could feel the warmth of the woman, the heat steaming from her skin, and Frida screamed violently when she pushed herself forward, straining herself through the last couple of inches that separated them, and she let out a deep breath when she felt a hand in hers.

Warmth exploded in her insides, crippling through her veins like an army of ants, slowly replacing the waves of pain that had washed over her in her journey over the bridge. Frida looked up at the face of the woman through half closed eyes, and she knew that she had proved herself.

The goddess was smiling widely at her, acknowledging her, praising her, and Frida finally felt herself relaxing again. She heard the woman laughing. It was a genuine laughter, an affectionate sound of the heart, and Frida strained herself for the last time, raising her eyes to gaze into the goddess'.

Moss green pearls stared at her, pierced her heart and searched every corner of her soul, and Frida let her see all of the secrets of her heart, all of her deepest fears and wishes folded out for the goddess in front of her. The pearls of the forest swallowed her, and Frida fell for an eternity through flickering greens into a valley of bravery and loving caresses.

She was home.

...

Frida opened her eyes. At first she did not know where she was, but it was not long before she recognized the wooden planks above her to be the loft of her own bedroom. A sharp smell of blood and lavender lay heavy in her nostrils, and she tried to sit up but was forced down into the soft furs under her as pain shot from her stomach.

Her empty stomach.

In panicky movements she swayed her hands over her stomach, and she felt sadness fill her heart when she did not feel a stirring in there, when the small life that she had carried around inside her was not there anymore. Her eyes rolled around in her skull, her world collapsed around her, and she heard a whimper escape her lips as she forced herself upwards in the bed.

When she finally sat up in the bed, her eyes immediately fell upon a figure placed over by the fire pit, and she felt tears gathering in her eyes when she recognized a heavy braiding hanging down over the backrest of the chair. Her voice was dry and cracked when she let his name sound over her lips, and she saw him turning his head slightly, his blue crystals falling upon her out of the corner of his eyes.

Ragnar carefully rose to his feet, and when he turned around to face her, Frida's heart exploded in her chest. He was looking down on a little bundle that he was carrying in his arms, and when he raised his eyes to look into hers, she noticed that they were wet.

She felt her throat tightening.

Ragnar walked slowly but deliberately towards her, and Frida felt a rushing for her ears when he sat down on the bed next to her, she felt her heart beating with a renewed vigor.

Ragnar reached his hand up and tucked away some of the cloths in his arms, and his voice was thick with emotion when he whispered: "Your mother wants to meet you, little one."

Frida's eyes widened when he reached the bundle over to her, and she carefully received the bundle and placed it very gently in her arms. An unfamiliar feeling shot from her heart when her eyes finally fell to the bundle in her arms, her eyes immediately locking with two small mossy pearls that were staring at her.

She felt tears streaming from the corner of her eyes.

It was her love, her life, the stirring life from her stomach, looking at her.

Frida heard herself sobbing, and she felt Ragnar placing a hand on her thigh, scooting himself closer to her and the little creature in her arms. He bent over to kiss her hair, and Frida tore her eyes away from the beauty that she was holding and gazed upon the man at her side, her husband, the father of her child.

She felt pride filling her entire being.

"Is it…" she whispered before letting her eyes return to the small bundle, her words disappearing into the warm air of their bedroom.

"A girl, yes," Ragnar answered, and she heard devotion drip from his voice while feeling his calm and loving air.

Frida stared at the life in her arms, and she felt her lips aching from the wide smile that had spread over them as the little child yawned, a small o forming her lips.

"What should we name her?" Ragnar's voice sounded.

As Frida took in the green moss pearls that was staring at her from her arms, she immediately remembered the goddess that she had seen in her bewildered clouding, how these same eyes had been looking at her in her vision, the eyes of a goddess. Frida let her eyes sway back to Ragnar, and she felt her heart grow big with love.

She did not choose the words that left her mouth, and she was surprised when she heard herself whisper: "Ragnhildir… Ragnhildir Ragnardottir*.

But the name fit perfectly for this little love in her arms, and Frida heard Ragnar breathing deeply when she bent over to kiss her little girl on the forehead.

"Ordained by the gods," Ragnar whispered, and Frida looked at her husband as he smiled widely at her, and cupped her face with his hand.

"It is perfect. Thank you," he smiled with love shining from his blue crystals, "Thank you, love, for giving me this gift."

Frida watched as he bent over to tuck away some of the linens to see his daughter better. "I promise to protect you Ragnhildir, as long as I shall live and even when I walk in the halls of Valhalla. You have made me so happy."

Frida sighed out in affection and reached her hand up to stroke Ragnar's head.

Her life was complete now. She was home.

* * *

*Ragnardottir means "Daughter of Ragnar/Ragnar's-daughter." It has been a norm in the Nordic culture for the last name of your children to show who the father is. That is why many Danes, for example, are named "Jørgensen, Jensen, Hansen" etc., because they mean "son of Jørgen", "son of Jens", "son of Hans" and so forth.


	31. Chapter 31

"She is very beautiful. Her eyes… are so green."

Frida smiled as she threw another piece of the dried trout she had still not learned to eat over to Freke who hungrily stared at her, his body completely tensed, ready for the throw. She turned her smile to Lagertha who sat by the fire with a little bundle in her arms.

Ragnhildir was calm, almost asleep there, and Frida felt her heart melting a little bit in her chest, as Lagertha gently swayed her body from side to side.

This woman was amazing. Frida regretted not having made friends with her as closely as with Helga, but she knew that it could not be blamed on her alone. Lagertha was a very ambitious and busy woman, a woman whom you often found screaming in the middle of the training spot or in the cozy light of the long-hall where she and the king and his men would decide matters of importance.

But sometimes, you found her sitting still, in a stool by the fireplace and with a calm air surrounding her. Then the sweet gentleness that all mothers possess would shine from her eyes like a star. Just like now.

Frida smiled to herself. "Lagertha, are we friends?" she asked in a soft voice.

The small sound of the crackling of flames licking wood danced between them as Lagertha raised her eyes to gaze at her, not blinking but with a sweet smile curling her lips.

"Well, of course we are friends, Frida. You are practically my family," she said, her arms around Ragnhildir hugging her tight for a quick moment.

Frida nodded with a smile and turned her eyes to look at the last piece of fish she had in her hand before she threw it at the wolf by her feet.

"Why?" Lagertha voiced in a slightly raised tone.

Frida looked at her with serious eyes. "Because I have something very personal to ask you."

Lagertha widened her eyes, but quickly lowered them to the small girl now sleeping in her arms.

Frida's voice sounded surprisingly calm as she added: "From one woman to another."

Frida rose from the bed and tugged her fur closer to her body before pouring them both a cup of ale. She felt Lagertha's eyes following her as she walked over to place herself beside her, reaching over the cup of ale whit her eyes locked on the fire in front of them. The air was warm and smoky, even with such freezing weather outside. Rollo's laughter was heard from the long-hall, and Frida saw out of the corner of her eye that Lagertha relaxed a bit.

Was she nervous?

Frida turned to look at her, and she smiled at her, trying her best to seem warm. Lagertha had a strange expression on her face, a face that reminded Frida of her first experience of Kattegat. Frida cleared her throat.

"Has… has Freyja ever visited you?" Frida breathed in a quick breath, small pink roses flowering her cheeks as the question left her lips.

This was something she had wanted to talk to somebody about, but not just anybody. It had to be a woman. A mother. Someone close to her family. It had to be Lagertha.

Lagertha looked a little puzzled as she tilted her head at the blossoming Frida, her blond hair falling beautifully down from her shoulder. "Yes, many times."

Frida stared at her, her cheeks still colored.

"How was she like?" she asked in a small voice while Ragnhildir's sweet little breathing aired between them, and Frida let her eyes fall down to her daughter.

Her heart drummed as she took in her beauty. It had not been more than a week since she had given birth to this little creature, and yet, she had grown like a flower before Frida's eyes. Stealthily gaining strength, sweetly taking form.

Lagertha's voice startled her a little, and she straightened her back in hopes of Lagertha not noticing. "Strong and determined. Yet also loving and passionate. You kind of remind me of her."

Frida's eyes widened and her breath almost got caught in her throat as she sipped from her horn. "Me?" she creaked in a shaky voice, and on her forehead tiny pearls of sweat started to gather.

Lagertha giggled. "Yes, even if it embarrasses me to tell you. But you have impressed me. And you have too impressed the gods, as is obvious."

Her eyes travelled over to Freke who were laying on one of the deer furs that were spread over the floor. "I think they like you. I like you."

Frida blinked several times at the beautiful Norse woman in front of her, their eyes not leaving each other's as they sat there, the fire still burning lively at their side. Her blood raced eagerly through her body.

"I like you too, Lagertha. And I am very happy that you chose to stay here with us. But I cannot help but to object to your claims about Freyja and me. If there were to be anyone in this room who possesses the same courage as the goddess, it is you. You are both love and rage, you are a mother and a shield maiden, and you have produced a very honorable son and raised him to be like his Father."

Lagertha gazed at her with soft eyes before she whispered: "Both of them."

Frida nodded and took a big sip of her cup, her eyes resting on the calm fire, and she lifted her legs to warm her feet on the warm stones of the fireplace.

"Still," Lagertha raised, but she quickly clasped her lips shut when the door to the bedroom was opened, and Ragnar came strolling in.

He walked determinedly for a short moment but came to a stop when he noticed the two of them sitting there. He tilted his head with furrowed brows and gathered his hands in front of himself, resting his weight slightly on the left leg. He let out a quick breath before he slowly walked towards them, hands still folded, and a curl quickly formed in the corner of his mouth.

Frida felt warm shivers travel down her spine when her eyes connected with his, and she quickly tore her eyes over to Lagertha's. Her face was cool, and she hugged Ragnhildir slightly tighter.

Ragnar stopped in front of them, towering over them with a cute curl on his lips, his right eye twitching a little.

"Good, uh… evening?" he voiced bluntly, putting his arms to his sides and smiling crookedly. Frida rolled her eyes at his dramatic entrance, and raised her arm to grab his, nudging him gently.

"Good evening, Ragnar," Lagertha smoothed, causing his eyes to travel to her, and he nodded, breathing quickly. "Earl Ingstadt."

Lagertha shook her head and laughed at him, and she bent over to hand Ragnhildir back to her mother. Frida sighed without noticing it herself when she once again held her daughter in her arms, her heart rapidly flushing warmth. Lagertha and Frida exchanged a look between them, eyeing to each other that their conversation would continue another time.

Ragnar cupped Frida's hair, and he bent over to look at Ragnhildir.

"I asked the cook to make you some soup. It is ready if you'd like," he hummed sweetly into her ear, and he gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. "Let her sleep."

He nodded his head at Ragnhildir, and Frida turned her eyes to her sweet face. She did not want to let go of her yet. Or ever.

But Ragnar reached his hands down to take her, and she let her go with a sigh, her eyes shooting over to Freke. He was already staring at her, his silvery light shining from the rugs, and she gave a slight nod with her head. The wolf blinked at her, and she knew that he had understood her. He was not letting anyone near her daughter.

And when Ragnar had finally pulled her away from Ragnhildir, Frida, him, and Lagertha made their way into the long-hall, where they dined at one of the small tables, enjoying their meal quietly.

While Frida sat there, she took a long look at the scenery in front of her.

Around the longtable sat many Northmen, her friends and family, a warm fire illuminating the room with a deep glow, the small flames in the candles flaring softly from the small gusts of winter air that sometimes escaped through the wooden planks of the longhouse. The sweet smell of chicken soup and smoke hang heavy in the air, and laughter and chatter sounded loudly. But never too loud.

A happy sound like that could never be too loud.

As she hugged her jug of mead between her hands, feeling the warmth spread over her skin, she smiled to herself. Even though she had been told that winters are tough here in Kattegat, she knew that this was going to be the best winter she had ever lived.


	32. Chapter 32

The winters in the North were really not something you would make fun of.

If Frida had thought that it had been cold when the first snow came, she had not seen anything yet. Frost had slowly crawled over the land like a plague infesting everything it touched on its deathly path, and the wind that followed was harsh and violent, stabbing your skin painfully if it had not been sealed with heavy furs. The snow had continued to fall from the white skies in heavy layers, and the sea was colder than ice, big flakes of solid frozen water floating over it like giant white leaves in the water.

All the animals, the livestock of the village, had been scrambled in the many houses to save them from turning to frozen sculptures, and an empty silence lay over the outsides of the village for many months as the winter roared at them.

When spring finally came, it was as if everyone sighed out in relief, thanking the gods for keeping them alive.

Frida was delighted when the snow finally melted down into the sea and she heard the chirps of birds again sounding from the tree tops. To her, it was as if the earth surrounding her was reborn, coming to life again right before her eyes with the blooming of small green buds and the smell of the plants breathing once more.

It was as if she had never experienced spring before.

The coming of spring in England had, of course, always too been an awaited and praised time of the year, but she had never longed for it this badly, as the winters in her old land had never lasted for so long. Frida had never thought that darkness could prevail for such a long period of time as it had here in Kattegat, and even though she had spent most of her time cuddled up in the pleasant warmth of the longhouse surrounded by her family, the clean and fragrant air of the spring in her lungs felt better than ever.

Ragnhildir had grown exceptionally fast during the winter. She was no longer as weak and fragile, and she and Freke had developed a friendship like no other. Freke only left her side when he was out hunting on his own, or if Ragnar took him out to help him and the other men search the woods for deer, rabbits or owls.

Ubbe and Hvitserk had started their training with Bjørn and Ragnar, and they nosily spent their time fighting against each other in the long-hall, practicing movements and tactics that were important when being in the shield wall. Frida had frowned many times when her eyes had rested upon the longing face of Ivar, who had sat by the fire and watched his brothers and father train.

He told her with a small voice one night that he would never feel like a true member of the family, like a true son of Ragnar, if he could not go with them on raids. Frida had thought it impossible for her to help him at first, but Athelstan had suggested that he was to use his mind instead of his strength when raiding, and Frida opened his world to warfare by telling him whatever little she knew about the strategies in the shield wall.

Her knowledge was, however, limited, but Lagertha quickly took it upon herself to be his teacher, and they had spent many hours together bent over the fireplace and speaking in hushed voices about fighting. Often, Athelstan would join them, and Frida's heart had warmed delightfully when she had seen Ivar smiling greater and greater.

But now the whole village had awakened from their winter sleep, from their hibernation, and more than half of the city was outside preparing the fields, rebuilding fences, or strengthening their weapons. Frida could feel a certain restlessness hover over the village, especially between the men, and it seemed like nobody could speak about nothing else but the coming raids.

Where were they going? What were they going to see? How many riches would they gather?

Frida was smiling widely into her horn as she sat on the wooden throne of the long-hall, Ragnhildir lazily resting in her arms, and she noticed the many exhilarated smiles that were scattered all over the room, the whole atmosphere thick with anticipation and renewed strength.

The villagers had been gathered in the longhouse to speak of this summer's raids.

She took a sip of the honey liqueur that flowed in her horn, and she closed her eyes in a smile as the sweetness spread over her tongue and traced further down into her stomach, flowing through her body like warm medicine. A loud roar broke from the crowd in front of her when Ragnar entered the room and took his place on the throne next to her. He threw an overcooked bone over to Freke, who joyfully laid himself down to devour the tasty marrow from its middle.

Ragnar sent her a quick little smile before he gathered his hands and turned his narrowed eyes to the many faces in front of him.

Silence flushed the room, and Frida felt Ragnhildir stirring in her arms. Her eyes were questioning, demanding, and Frida giggled lightly before she raised her so that she was standing, so to speak, on Frida's thighs.

Ragnhildir was the most curious baby she had ever come across, and Frida had asked herself many times whether she had inherited her father's constant search for knowledge and adventure. If that was the case, Frida knew that this child would grow up to do many great things, just like him.

"Summer is finally coming our way," Ragnar's voice sounded loudly through the large room, "And I know that you, just as I, are looking much forward to the coming raids."

Cheering and wooing flashed through the long-hall, but when Ragnar raised his hand, it quickly died down.

"Now, instead of boring you with a long talk about east or west and the dangers of crossing the big ocean, I will just leave it here. We will go to England again, and we will see what else those lands can offer us."

Ragnar chuckled when the crowd once more rumbled with excitement, and he turned his gaze to Frida and Ragnhildir, blinking at them both sweetly. Frida nodded at him with a curl on her lips.

Ragnar rose to his feet and raised his arms, controlling the audacity of the men in front of him. "I have many dreams concerning England. I wish not to just kill and plunder, but to search the king of this land too, and see what he can offer us. And maybe, just maybe, we do not have to return so quickly, maybe we can stay there for a little while. But that, of course, goes to show."

Rapid murmuring spread through the villagers, and Frida could see both intrigued and furrowed brows rising between the many faces. Ragnar placed himself back on his throne and reached his hand over to rest it upon Frida's. She smiled sweetly at him and felt a small nudging in her stomach spreading warmth through her blood.

"I am also happy to announce that your queen is carrying yet another child of mine in her belly. The gods are truly showering me with their gifts."

Amazed sighs whistled through the crowd, and Frida felt her cheeks blushing while her heart drummed. She could feel Lagertha's eyes on her from the front row of the crowd, but she let her gaze fall down upon Ragnhildir, hugging her closely.

"She will stay here while we go to England, and I will therefore ask some of you to stay here with her and protect my family. I will not have a ship coming to England again, announcing another usurping of my lands."

Ragnar's eyes fell to Rollo, and Frida felt something sink in her heart. The memory of Jarl Borg still lingered heavy in Ragnar's mind, she knew that.

Ragnar rose to his feet once more and raised his horn before his people, a huge smile breaking on his lips.

"To Kattegat!" he yelled, closely followed by cheers from the crowd who gladly drank with their king.

"And to our king," Rollo bellowed deeply, earning another round of cheering to sound.

Frida watched Ragnar as he gulped down the golden honey liquids from his horn, his eyes resting calmly on his brother. But Frida did not make much out of this exchange. She could not wait to see what they would find in England.


	33. Chapter 33

While writing this chapter, I listened to this particular Danish song, so I thought you guys might like it: Søs Fenger - "Du er." It is a song about love, and about how the girl is saying that her boyfriend has taken her heart with him and that he should be careful with it, kinda appropriate for this chapter. You can find it on YouTube if you'd like.

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A deep sound from a rounded horn blared in the wind as Bjørn let the axe fall and slice through the neck of the horse, respectful silence spread out over the circled crowd of people who were gathered to celebrate the annual spring equinox sacrifice.

This was another celebratory day that was new to Frida.

The entire village would gather around a big fire and sacrifice animals to the gods in the hopes of having a good summer ahead of them. The blood of the animals was to be spilled into bowls, and then with twigs it would be sprayed over the fields and paths of the city, spreading fertility to the land.

Frida loved the flourishing agility that beamed from the villagers and roamed over them, creating a tense air between them all that accelerated into the axe that Bjørn held in his hands. A small line of drops of blood splashed over his cheek as the horse fell to its front knees, a giant gush of air escaping its flaring nostrils.

Frida looked at its dark eyes as they widened, their owner well aware of its destiny. A red fountain gushed from its throat, and while two men held its head to gather the red liquids, Bjørn held the axe up into the air, his voice sounding clearly over the big crowd of people.

"Njord, Frej, and Odin. Accept our gifts!"

The silence hung thick among the circle of people, the lonely horn blaring the one sound that chimed along the rushing wind. The air was fragrant, bloomy, and while another throat of an animal was cut open, Frida closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, inhaling all the small, mysterious and magical senses and smells that were hidden in the air of the spring.

Salt, damp earth, moist and grass traveled through her lungs and spread out over her skin, sending a light chill to spread over her body. She felt a small nudging at her arm, and she turned her head to lay her eyes down upon a couple of mossy green pearls that stared at her from behind Ragnar's shoulder, and a wide smile spread over her face, a drum beating heavily with love in her chest.

Ragnhildir giggled sweetly in her father's arms, reaching her arm up once more to send her mother a quick wave, a move she had learned recently. Frida smiled lovingly at her daughter and she sent her a small wave back, suddenly feeling a couple of icy blue crystals on her.

Her eyes traveled up to meet with Ragnar's, and he curled his lips at her before kissing Ragnhildir's thin blond hair. The baby girl in his arms grinned at him and reached up her hand to grab at his beard, pulling roughly at it, making him squeeze his eyes together. Frida wanted to laugh out, but she quieted herself by covering her mouth with her hand and coughing a little, sensing a couple of eyes from the villagers around them.

Her heart pounded proudly in her chest as she gazed at Ragnar and their daughter. Ragnhildir was very fond of her father.

Very.

It was up to that level where Frida sometimes felt a slight pinch of jealousy in her stomach when she saw how her daughter's eyes lit up when Ragnar entered the room, how her arms immediately hovered over her chest as she expected him to pick her up, and how her whole presence would shine when she sat comfortably on his hip.

Frida always shook her head when the pinching started, because she knew that it was stupid.

She was overjoyed that Ragnar and Ragnhildir had such a loving relationship, but she also knew that the pinching grew not just out of jealousy. It was too out of fear for the day when her daughter had to wave goodbye to her father on Kattegat's harbor, when he was to go raiding in England in a couple of weeks.

He was going to be gone for many months. And Frida did not know how Ragnhildir would respond to that.

But she had to be strong for her daughter, even though she was not sure how she herself would react to Ragnar's absence. She hated being away from him for too long, as his gaze on her filled her with such a calm that she could not find elsewhere.

And she did not want to think about all the responsibilities that were being laid upon her shoulders with Ragnar not being there. She was the one who was to sit on the throne alone, she was to decide the important matters in Kattegat while he was so far away across the great ocean, and she was to raise his children and their child without his guidance.

She was scared.

But that she had not told Ragnar. Because when she heard him rush his words, tripping over half of them, as he told her about his plans for their raid, she could not hush his excitement. And when she saw him bent over the fire with his fellow raiders, deep in concentration as they discussed strategies and plausible outcomes, she could not bring herself to call for him to join her in the bed.

She knew how important this was to him, how these adventures of his were everything he had ever dreamed of and that she wished not to stand in his way for living them out to the fullest.

Life was precious. She had come to learn that. And not just in the way that you have to be careful and fight to survive, you also have to enjoy each moment as they pass you by, because at some unexpected turn, everything can change.

Her eyes dropped to Ragnhildir's heart shaped face, and she thought about how quickly she had gone from being a simple girl living on a poor farm in Northumbria to being a respected person in Kattegat, the queen even, the mother of a child who bears a well-known name of kin in these lands.

And while the celebration of the coming spring continued with the sacrifices and the feasting and drinking, Frida's mind was full of fast blinking images of Ragnar's departure, of life without him in Kattegat, and of Ragnhildir without her sunshine.

She sat staring into the fire as the thoughts raced around in her mind, and she did not blink until she felt a big hand being laid upon her shoulder. She tore her eyes away from the orange flames and let them rest at Ragnar's deep oceans, and she noticed the dark rings circling them while he raised his eyebrows at her.

"You okay, love?" he whispered through the shadows caused by the fire, and his hand swayed up to nudge her ear lope gently while she let her head rest against his hand, sighing out.

"Yes, it's just… I'm just tired," she breathed and sent him a half-convinced smile.

He cupped her face with his hand, while his eyes rested on hers. The air was dry and greyish, a certain aroma of dust, wax, and alcohol mingling between the villagers that were still celebrating in the long-hall. Ragnar bent himself closer to her and reached his hand down to sway over her stomach, pride shining from every corner of his face.

"Come with me to bed, then," he smiled softly, reaching her his hand while rising to his feet.

Frida was surprised that he offered her the rest of his evening alone with her, as Ragnar usually wanted to stay up until most of his guests had gone to their homes. But she gladly followed him to their bedroom, and she eagerly let her clothes fall to the floor before crawling into the warm covers of their bed while sneaking her eyes over her blanket, greedily taking in Ragnar's full frame as he stood with his back at her, looking at Ragnhildir as she slept soundly in her little crib.

The skin of his back was filled with scars from his previous battles, and she felt warmth spread through her body as she let her eyes travel her husband's body as he stood there, half naked and vulnerable, when she knew how violent and rough he seemed to others.

The very first time she had laid her eyes upon him, she had come to think of an animal of prey, a fierce and clever beast that was in control and had the advantage. She smiled.

She saw him looking at her from the corner of his eye and over his shoulder, and he curled his lips into a smug smile when he noticed how she was staring, slowly turning around to face her.

Frida bit her lip and smiled shyly at him as he undid his pants, but she kept her eyes locked on his when he let them fall to the floor. Their eyes never left each other as he made his way down under the covers to slide his body up against hers, reaching his arms around her shoulders and lifting her head over to rest upon his chest.

The small hairs on his chest tickled the soft skin on her cheek lightly, but she pressed her head against his breast, his heart beat sounding loudly in her ear. She felt his eyes pierce at her face, but she kept her head burrowed there under her hair, listening intently to his pulse.

The humming caused by Ragnar speaking buzzed through her ear and sent strange tickling sensations down her body, as he said: "Now, what is troubling your heart?"

She felt one of his hands sway over the small of her back, and she tightened her grip around his torso. Frida felt her throat constricting, and she cursed how sensitive she was when carrying a child, and she soon felt something wet travel down her cheek.

She sighed out. She knew that she might as well just tell him the truth. Ragnar was that type of person who would always sense when something was changed in you emotionally.

She bit her lips and let her eyes travel over the lean muscles on his stomach.

"I just feel," she whispered in a thin voice, "Scared."

She closed her eyes and regretted how shaky her voice had sounded. But she could not help but to cry. She heard Ragnar breathing calmly beside her while the rain trotted gently outside upon the roof over their heads.

"Why?" he soothed above her, his breath waving over her shoulder like a warm breeze.

He pressed his lips against her hair. She felt her lips trembling.

"Because you are going to leave."

A painful silence spread between them as the words had left her lips, and she felt tears streaming from her eyes, anxiety crawling over her heart rapidly. Ragnar tugged some of the hair that covered her face behind her ear, and she could not hide her tears, so she lifted her eyes to look at him, feeling his stare. Ragnar's lips were formed into a straight line, and she could see that he was weighing his words in his mouth, wondering how to express himself.

He sighed out, looking at her with soft eyes.

"You will not be alone," he voiced, and she saw how he quickly pulled at his shoulders.

Frida felt guilt wash up into her mouth as she saw how his eyes had dropped and his air had changed.

She was making him feel bad. That was not her intention.

She exhaled deeply, her words breathy and long. "I'm, uh… I'm just going to miss you, Ragnar. With all of my heart. And I will not think about anything else than your safe return while you are away. I just wish…"

Her voice died out, and she let her eyes fall to his bare chest again.

Ragnar quickly lifted her chin with his hand, and send her questioning eyes. "What do you wish?"

Their stare was intense and electrified, hot sparks shooting from the pits of Frida's stomach.

"I wish," she whispered through clenched teeth, "That we could be around each other, always."

She did not know why she felt awoken all of a sudden. As if something had caught on fire in her inside, as if an animal that had been sleeping suddenly started roaring from her pits, causing her blood to drum along her veins, flushing her cheeks with red.

Ragnar lifted his hand to stroke her lower lip with his thumb, and she thoughtlessly started kissing it. Ragnar hummed silently as Frida let one of her hands sway over his skin, her nails tracing over it gently.

"Hm, maybe you will come with me some time," he mumbled breathily as she ran her fingers over his lower abdomen, and Frida looked at him intently.

"To England?"

Her hand stopped moving for a short moment, but when he sent her a curly smile, she carried on her caressing.

"Mmh," he nodded as she trailed over his navel, clawing her nails over the fine curls of hair down there, and she smiled as she watched him enjoy her touch with eyes closed.

She imagined herself on one of the boats again, her sitting there and waiting to cast her eyes upon the shores of England once more. Something she had never imagined she would come to do again.

She giggled at the thought. Maybe she would be able to see Lady Liofrun again after all.

"Maybe," she whispered over his skin.

She planted a few soft kisses on his chest, and a low humming sounded from him as they lay there together, the room dark and silent.

She waited with her eyes closed till he had fallen asleep beside her, and she rested her head on his shoulder as she listened to his and Ragnhildir's sleeping breaths for a while in the dark of the night, relishing the moment.

This had to be one of her favorite moments.

When her, her husband and their child were all together. She cupped her belly with her hand, a little smile creeping over her lips.

And she could not wait till their new child would join them. When Ragnar would have returned from England.


	34. Chapter 34

Please listen to the Danish song "Solen er så rød mor" by Røst. I want you to get in the mood for this one :)

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Frida sat with her eyes raised at the rosy sky above her, while she mindlessly let her fingers work on a small flower garland she was making for Ragnhildir with the cute marguerites that flourished lively by the weeping willow she had sat down by. The garland was white, yellow and green, the colors of innocence, and she felt a nudging in her stomach as her eyes kept roaming the skies above her.

The village seemed empty now, without all of the men and shield maidens there, and she had felt a certain restlessness growing in her heart ever since their departure.

His departure.

Frida sighed out as her eyes fell down to the flowers in her hands, and she wondered how long they had come in their voyage, and whether they had reached the English shores yet. She pictured Floki hovering the horizon with his darkened eyes from the stem of the ship. Ragnar, scouting out over the railing too with a raven on his shoulder, consulting with the gods and asking them for success in their coming adventures, while the oars glided through the salty water under their vessel, heaving them closer and closer to their destination.

Frida was humming the tunes of a song that had been resonating in her head ever since Ragnar's departure. A song that she had heard Helga sing many times now for the children before they were to sleep. She felt her heart sinking inside of her chest, as a tone of loneliness unveiled itself in her voice, giving away her deepest emotions. She heard herself singing the song as if it would comfort her as she sat there under the blooming greens of the willow that were painted orange by the beams of the setting of the sun.

"The sun is so red, mom  
and the forest is turning so black.  
Now the sun has died, mom  
the daytime won't be back.  
The fox is out there, mom  
we're locking our doors.  
Come, sit by my bedside, mom  
and sing a little song."

She felt her throat tightening slightly and something wet gathering in the corners of her eyes. Even though she knew that she was not alone here in Kattegat, that Helga and Elisef who had come to be her closest friends were just inside the longhouse looking out for the children, she still felt loneliness shadowing her being, creeping over her like a spirit of the forest, an elf coloring her skin and making her feel like a child all over again.

Fearful and unknowing.

Her thoughts wandered back to the morning before Ragnar had sailed off with the raiders, how he had stood here by this exact same tree, scouting the skies just like her. Frida had been looking for him, as Rollo had urged for him to join the others by the boats, and Frida had searched every corner of the longhouse without finding her husband anywhere.

But when she had peeped her head out of the small door that led to the outskirts of the village, her eyes had quickly fallen upon his figure. Her heart had drummed in her chest as she had watched him standing there, with his eyes turned to the sky, and she had felt her blood rushing when out of the blue canvas came a giant black raven diving through the air before landing upon Ragnar's shoulders, croaking softly as he welcomed it.

Frida had held her breath and furrowed her brows as she had watched him and the raven, how he had looked at it with his blue crystals shining more than ever, how he had whispered to it, as if he was having a conversation with it, and how it had fluttered its wings lightly as it croaked at him, answering his uncertainties in the morning sun.

Frida giggled inaudibly as she recalled how frightened she had been when the raven had turned its small black eyes to stare at her, causing Ragnar to turn to look at her too and discover that she had been standing there prying on them. He had not been angry with her, he had merely curled his lips and turned his back to her again, before the raven croaked at him one last time, scattering its big wings and taking off into the blue openness above them.

Frida once more lifted her eyes to search the pink sky, the song still playing for her ears as a small tear sneaked down over her cheek.

"The sky is so big, mom  
with bright and shining stars.  
I wonder who lives there, mom  
up in the starry blue?  
Do you think they're boys, mom  
looking down where I might be?  
And have they beds, mom  
to sleep in just like me?"

Childish fears ran over her skin as the last rays of the sun warmed her, and the chirping of birds sounded from the forest like flutes. Frida let the flower garland in her hands fall to the ground before she wrapped her arms around herself, comforting her loneliness as another tear traveled from the corner of her eye.

What she would not give for a last hug from her own mother, for her comforting smell of lilacs and her gentle touch. Frida swayed her hands over her stomach, and let a small sigh escape her lips.

She had to be the strong one now, she had to be the comfort that she longed for so badly, she had to nurture her children just as her mother had nurtured her, and she had to shy from these childish anxieties that sprouted from her heart.

And yet, as she sat there between the sways of grass and ling, she finished the song that made her miss her mother so, letting the last tears escape her eyes.

"Why does the night come, mom  
with cold and bitter winds?  
Listen to the cat, mom  
it's mewing and wants in!  
The seagulls and the terns  
no dwelling place has blest.  
Listen, the stars are singing, mom  
They're lulling me to rest!"

Frida braided the rest of the garland of marguerites as she finished the song, and with the last word she rose to her feet feeling lighter than before, as if the song had helped her overcome a small struggle inside of herself.

As she threw a final glance at the darkening sky, a smile crept over her lips. She was going to do this now. She was going to be strong for herself, her children, her friends and family, and for the villagers that were still in Kattegat. She could not hide herself from her responsibilities. She was going to face them and show the gods that she really was destined to have this place in the world.

As Ragnar's wife, the mother of his children, the queen of Kattegat. As Frida.

She sucked in a deep breath and readied herself. But just as she was about to take a step towards the longhouse, she heard a childish laughter sound. Frida froze, turning her head slightly and stared at the forest from where the sound had come.

She furrowed her brows and narrowed her eyes.

It was a strange place for any child to be at this hour, as most of the children normally would be helping their mothers cook by now. Frida absentmindedly reached one of her hands up to grab at her necklace, sensing the air changing around her slightly.

Someone was there.

In a way she regretted not having brought Freke out here with her now, as an unfamiliar chill ran down her spine, her eyes scouting over the berry-filled bushes that marked the edge of the forest. A strange silence hung in the air, and she took a step forward towards the forest, her eyes turning with every movement there, with every branch that swayed in the warm summer breeze.

"Who is there?" she whispered almost silently, her blood rushing for her ears and drowning out the chirping of the birds.

Another chill ran over her spine when the laughter sounded again, closer to her this time, and she now started backing away from the forest, closing the distance between herself and her home. Even though it was a childish laughter resonating from the bushes, she did not like the tone of it. The strange airy cling that sounded over the dry grass in front of her reminded her of a dream she had had not long ago. But she could not recall what the dream had entailed.

Frida's body almost collapsed in suspense when she saw a dark figure appearing through the bushes. She threw her hands up to her chest, as her heart drummed heavily, and she narrowed her eyes at the figure, slowly realizing that it indeed was a child lurking there, a young boy with reddish blonde hair and freckles smiling at her.

She sighed out in relief.

She opened her mouth to greet him, but just as the words were forming on her lips, a girl appeared too. She was also smiling at Frida, and she looked very much alike the boy. They both stood there between the bushes, smiling at her, their grey eyes shining weirdly in their flushed faces.

Frida did not know what to do with herself. What were they doing there?

She cleared her throat, but she did not move towards them. Their air was so strange. "Who are you?" she managed to croak out, slicing the thick silence that hovered between them.

The boy and the girl started walking towards her in the exact same movements, their eyes never leaving hers as they gently trot over the long grass between them. Their smiles were wide, wild almost, as they got closer, and they only stopped when Frida put her hand on the door behind her, ready for escaping the scene.

She did not know why she felt frightened like this. They were merely children.

But they acted strangely, and she kept her eyes narrowed on their faces. They were both very handsome children, their hair blonde but tinted with a golden red, their eyes grey like the sky on a rainy day. They looked like brother and sister.

"Who are you?" Frida repeated, her voice firmer this time, her muscles tensing under her skin.

The boy took a small step forward, still smiling as he said: "We liked your singing. Can we hear another song?"

Frida furrowed her brows and tilted her head as his question sounded in her ears. She still had her hand on the door. "Where is your mother?" she breathed at them, her heart and blood drumming.

She watched the two children glare at each other for a quick moment, before their eyes turned to her face again, their smiles fading slightly.

"We don't know," they stated in unison, innocence dripping from the voices.

Frida felt an alarming sensation growing in her belly, but she sent them a small smile. "Are you hungry?" she asked, her muscles still tensing under her skin.

Both of them eagerly nodded their heads, and even though the strange feeling still lingered on her skin, she waved a hand at them. "Come then, and I'll sing you another song while you eat."

She persuaded herself into thinking that this was the right thing to do, even with her feeling so strange in their presence. She did not know them, she had never seen them before here in Kattegat, and yet she still felt like they were supposed to go with her.

So she brought them to the long-hall and placed them by the fire, before she turned to the bedroom to go get Helga and Elisef. Helga was sitting on the bed, her one arm on Ragnhildir's crib and her eyes roaming over the little playground they had built for the young ones, where Angrboda was playing.

When Frida entered the room, Helga quickly rose to her feet. "What happened?" she urged in a small breath, as if she knew all about Frida's encounter with the two strange children.

Frida breathed out and eyed her questioningly, before she responded: "I, uh… A little boy and a little girl came to me from the forest, I… They wanted me to sing for them, and they don't know where their mother is, so…"

Helga took a quick step forward. "A brother and a sister?" she pressed.

Frida furrowed her brows at her friend, and nodded slowly. What was going on?

Helga rushed over to hand Frida Ragnhildir, and her eyes looked more alive than ever as she opened the door to cast a look out into the long-hall. "We should feed them, treat them well," she whispered in rushed words. "Did they want you to sing for them?"

Frida nodded again, confused about Helga's response.

"You should, then," she whispered while her eyes were stuck on the two boys by the fire.

Frida hissed out a quick breath. "But Helga, I don't understand. Who are they?"

But Helga did not answer her, she merely sent her a long soft glare, her lips curling slowly at her, before she walked back to pick up her daughter. She said nothing as she walked past Frida and out into the long-hall, and Frida followed her confusedly.

What did she know?


	35. Chapter 35

Helga had acted strangely since Frida had brought the two children to the longhouse.

Not only did she not say much, she kept sending long stares in the direction of them, glaring at them secretively whenever she did not think Frida was watching her. Even as they dined at the longtable, she ate in silence, smiling innocently whenever her eyes would meet with Frida's.

Elisef, another woman whose husband had left to go raiding in England, too acted weirdly, and Frida felt a bit like she should know why.

When the food had been set on the table, the brother and the sister eagerly swallowed it almost without chewing it first, and Frida could not help but to feel warm inside as she watched them eat in silence while her hand reached down under the table to stroke Freke's furry head.

He was eyeing them intently, but Frida was surprised when she saw the little girl bending her head under the table to look at him, the almost full grown wolf, before smiling widely, her eyes quickly locking with Frida's as she resurfaced. A strange chilling sensation ran over Frida's skin as she watched the two of them over the table, the flickering lights of the candles sending shadows to dance over their faces, making them appear much older than they had first seemed for her to be.

Frida drank secretively from her horn. The silence that hovered around them was mysterious, and she felt like she was the only one in the room who was oblivious to what was actually going on. As if there was something crucial to the situation that she had not come to realize yet.

"What are you two called?" she dared to voice out over the table, causing all eyes to fall upon her.

She smiled sweetly at the children, trying to ignore the awkward tension that lay thick in the warm air of the room. She wanted to know why everyone around her acted so strange. And she wanted to know why they made her feel so strange.

Both of them stared at her with their grey shining eyes, and they simultaneously reached up to grab their cups, drinking slowly while keeping their eyes on her. When they did not answer her, she felt a slightly gnawing irritation starting to creep at the sides of her skull, and she reached up to press a finger to her temple.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd appearing at the door, peeping their heads in to see the new visitors. She motioned for them to come over and join them at the table, her eyes never leaving the two strange children. They had not said anything since their first meeting with Frida, and she was starting to get nervous.

Their air was so vivid and wild. She could not make out what they were planning to do or say. So she tried again.

"If I sing you another song, will you then tell me what I should call you?"

The brother and the sister looked at each other, weighing her words between them. Frida felt Sigurd tugging at her dress, and she pulled him up to sit on her lap. The two children watched her every movement. A small wave of relief washed over her when she saw them both nodding, accepting her terms. She reached up her hand to stroke Sigurd's blonde hair gently, finally letting her eyes rest on something else than the greys of the strange children at the other side of the table.

"Sigurd, which song do you think they'd like the best?" she breathed calmly even though her insides were in turmoil.

She felt like this was somewhat important, as if someone was watching her dealing with them. She saw how Sigurd's eyes lit up, and his body stirring lightly in eager as he put his finger to his mouth, considering his options.

The room was quieter than usual. The spring had pulled heavy clouds of rain with it, but as summer had rolled over the skies above them, no rain was drumming on the roof above them. It was only the crackling of burning logs in the fire that lingered between them and the slow heartbeat of the new blacksmith hammering on his anvil somewhere in the village soothingly setting the rhythm of their breathing.

Sigurd's eyes rested on her features for a quick moment before his face lit up. "The one about our lands of course!"

A wide smile grew on Frida's face as she saw how his eyes shone, and she nodded slowly before turning to look at the two red blonde children again.

"Yes, I think they'd like that one too," she smiled, and she could sense how Helga was looking at her from the end of the longtable.

She felt like she was on a trial, but her voice sounded surprisingly calm when she finally started singing. The song was slow, but she had always thought it to sound like a fairytale, like a dream, like the stories from the sagas of the old times. The room was darkening along with the setting sun as she recalled the song that she had heard the women of Kattegat sing many times, when they were harvesting or plowing in the fields. It resonated hope and pride. She closed her eyes as her voice filled the otherwise silent room:

"A lovely land is ours  
with spreading, shady breeches,  
near Baltic's saltry strand.  
Her hills and valeys gently fall,  
her name of old is Denmark  
And she is Freyja's hall."

Even though Frida felt all eyes on her, she kept hers closed. Images of her life before she came to this land passed through her mind, and she felt her heart swell in her chest. She was thankful that she could call these lands home, that she finally felt like she belonged. Sigurd reached his arms around her and snuggled closer to her, resting his cheek on her chest. Warmth slowly filled her stomach as her voice waved through the room.

"In days of long-ago,  
the armoured giants rested  
between their bloody frays.  
Then forth they went the foe to face,  
now found in stone-set barrows  
their final resting place."

Frida finally opened her eyes to see the brother and the sister eyeing her intently. Their faces were flushed and excited, and they listened to the story of her song unfold itself over the candles on the table.

"This land is yet so fair,  
the waters blue around her,  
and green are still her leaves.  
Noble women, maidens fair,  
and men and lads so skillfull  
dwell still on these Northern isles."

A stingy pain flashed quickly over her heart as her thoughts traveled to Ragnar. She wished that he could hear her singing, that he could feel the same sensations as she did in this moment, and the volume of her voice grew stronger with the last verse. Her heart was not whole when he was not here, and her voice shook with emotion as she completely forgot where she was, picturing Ragnar in front of her, being with her again.

"Hail king and fatherland!  
Hail every Dane who labors  
to do his very best.  
Our ancient lands shall endure,  
as long as the beech trees reflect  
their crowns in the blue wave."

When the song ended, a deafening silence fell amongst them. Frida felt the change in the two children's air, and she saw how they smiled wickedly at her, their grey eyes shining even more than they had before. There was something unearthly about their presence, and her smile faded quickly when she saw them both rising to their feet.

Helga's voice suddenly chirped from the end of the table, startling Frida heavily: "It would be rude of you to deny our queen your names, now that she sang you a song, would it not?"

Frida stared at Helga with her mouth open, but she clasped it shut when she saw her smiling at the two of them.

Irritation and mischief washed over both of their faces, and the boy locked his eyes with her while the girl started walking with short steps towards the door. Frida rose from her feet too now, handing Sigurd over to Elisef.

She did not want them to leave. Not yet.

The boy that still lingered at the table burned her with his wild eyes. An uncomfortable wave washed over her body as his voice flared: "A queen should go with her king when he conquers such big waves. Always."

And with those words, the boy broke into a run, and like lightning he flashed across the floor of the long-hall, disappearing right before her eyes in a swift movement. Frida was frozen as she still stood staring at the spot from where the boy had disappeared, and she felt the hairs of her neck stand, disbelief washing over her as she realized what had just happened.

When she too broke into a run for the door, Freke followed her, and they both hurled themselves out of the room, their eyes quickly scanning for the children when they reached the outside.

But they had vanished.

Frida felt her heart sink heavy in her chest when she realized that the two children were nowhere to be found, and she heard Freke whimpering at her side, his tail cropped nervously up between his legs and his ears confusedly turning at every sound around them, while his nose searched every motion of the wind, trying to find a trace of where they had gone.

And Frida felt fear travel down her spine when he did not find it.

Freke always found it. The words of the strange boy sounded loudly in her head as she stared at the path before her in disbelief.

 _"A queen should go with her king when he conquers such big waves. Always."_

She did not know what it meant, but she knew that she had to figure it out. Those two had not come here by chance. They had brought her a message.

* * *

Let's see if you guys recognized it: Which song have I used here?


	36. Chapter 36

Frida sighed out heavily when the meeting in the longhouse was finally over.

There had been many complaints to deal with, and meanwhile Frida did solve most of them with the help of Elisef, her thoughts were somewhere completely different the whole time. As she sat there in the boiling summer heat of the long-hall, she furrowed her brows thoughtfully, her hands swaying over her ever growing belly while she lightly bit on the nail of her thumb, thinking about last night's events.

After the two children had disappeared, Frida had not turned around to the longhouse to ask Helga and Elisef what on earth had happened. Instead she had found herself trotting her way, quickly, along the paths of the village, ending up at a door that she had only entered once before.

The door to the Seer's house.

The room had been just as dark and creepy as she remembered it to be, and she immediately regretted her stepping in there, when the door closed behind her and a hideous smell filled her nostrils.

A smell of rotten flesh and dust lingered heavily in the thick air, and she felt like she had stepped into another world. A world in which magical beings and the gods were more real than her own heartbeat itself. Frida had sat down on the stool facing the table that was placed in the middle of the room, as Ragnar had done when she had been there with him. She heard a gurgling laugh, a wet and throaty larking coming from the darkest corner of the room, and enormous waves of chilling goosebumps spread over her entire body, petrifying her as she sat there.

The cloaked figure moved slowly towards her, dragging his feet with him as he came closer, while he chuckled in slow breaths, filling the room with his unearthly tone of voice, causing the little creature in her stomach to stir nervously beneath her skin.

Frida still could not look at him properly. She felt like a child as she sensed his eyes upon her face, and while she kept hers lowered on the wooden table in front of her, she heard his voice coming over her.

"What brings the queen here, to intrude an old man's rest?" croaked the voice, and she closed her eyes as regret washed up in her mouth.

If only Ragnar had been here with her.

"Please," she whispered in a quick breath. "In here, I am just Frida."

She heard the Seer chuckling again, and she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he sat down in front of her on the other side of the table. His skin looked to be as deformed and irritated as ever, his lips as black as a Norse winter's night, and she felt his stare burning her face even if she could not tell if he even had eyes or not.

"Why have you come, Frida?" he asked her in a serious tone, his head tilting at her slightly.

Frida finally dared to raise her head and look at him directly, and she noticed his lips were curled into something that reminded her of a smug grin. However, his air was serious, and his movements still. Frida had a feeling that he already knew very well why she had come.

She felt her chest tightening as she cleared her throat. She did not know whether she really wanted to hear what he had to say or not. But she had to hear it.

"A young brother and sister came here," she started in a trembling voice, while she nervously twitched her hands in her lap. "They told me something which I do not understand."

The room was very silent, and the Seer breathed loudly into the room as he reached up his hand to grab a couple of bones that were spread over the table. The sound of the chalky pieces rattling over the wooden planks sent eerie shivers down her spine, causing her body to tremble slightly.

When the Seer did not answer her, she went on. She felt out of place in here, as if the whole world was watching her, listening to her every word.

She felt very self-conscious. "They told me that…"

But Frida's words came to a halt when the Seer began to laugh again, louder, manically. Her eyes widened when she saw him picking up one of the bones on the table. It was the skull of a big bird.

"The last time you came here, you came with the same questioning eyes that I see before me now. I am beginning to question whether or not you take our gods seriously, Frida."

Frida stared hard on the cloaked figure in front of her, and she felt nettled by his words, a certain knotting feeling constricting her throat heavily, making it difficult for her to breathe. She did not know how to answer him.

The cloak sighed out heavily, as if annoyed by her presence alone, while his hands continued to roam over the old bones on the table.

"Let me tell you a story," the Seer finally croaked out.

And while the Seer carefully chose his words, Frida had to remind herself to breathe while listening.

"One day, the gods Thor and Loki were riding Thor's war chariot that was pulled along by the billy-goats Tandgnost and Tandgrisner. As they passed by Midgård, they found themselves to be both tired and hungry, so they pulled in at the first house they saw. This house belonged to the farmer Eigil Skytten, who was very hospitable, and they were welcomed by him and his family. He had a wife, Groa, and two children.

Eigil told them that they were very welcome to rest their tired legs in their house, however, they had very little food, as they could barely feed themselves. Thor told them that food was not a problem, and so he immediately slaughtered one of his goats, ordering them to only eat the meat of the bones, but never suck out the marrow nor break even a single one of them.

The family and the two gods feasted mightily when the stew had been prepared, and when all the bellies of the house were full, everyone went to sleep. When morning came, and Thor swung Mjølnir over his chariot, he noticed that one of his goats had a limp. Thor became infuriated, and he thundered into the family's house once more, asking who had sucked out the marrow of goat's leg in a roar.

It was Tjalfe, one of the children, who came to confess his deeds, and Thor was angrier than ever. But to punish him, Eigil offered that Thor was to take his children with him, as servants, so the family would not live a harsh punishment of the gods. Thor agreed to his terms, and the children of Eigil were brought with the two gods to Asgård."

When the Seer did not speak anymore, Frida stared at him with a carved forehead. The silence that followed his tale was thundering, rushing for her ears, and she opened her mouth to question it. She did not know what to do with this tale.

"I'm sorry," she admitted in a thin voice. "But I do not see how that has anything to do with what happened yesterday."

She felt her heart sink in her chest. She had really hoped that the Seer would help her come to understand.

A rattling snicker sounded from the seer, as Frida put her head in her hands. She felt helpless.

"It has everything to do with yesterday," the Seer grinned horribly in a wet clatter.

Frida felt frustration explode inside of her chest, and she felt her muscles flexing tightly, her fists clenching in her lap.

"But!" she started, immediately interrupted by the cloaked figure: "Follow the raven."

His statement was blunt, demanding, and Frida clasped her lips shut. The ancient one in front of her smiled crookedly at her as he reached out his boney hand.

Their conversation was over.

Frida had left the house with a stale taste lingering on her tongue and a clouded head. She felt even more confused than before she had visited the ancient one, and she hated herself for not comprehending what had happened.

And while she sat there on the throne, pressing a finger to one of the temples on the side of her head, she stared up at the great banner that hung over the entrance to the long-hall. It was a black flag, Ragnar's symbol, and at the center there was the image of a raven woven with golden thread.

Frida's eyes flew open, and she rose to her feet in a swift movement with her eyes stuck on the banner. A wave of realization washed over her as she walked towards it, and a big smile crept over her lips, a stone finally leaving her shoulders.

This was what it meant.

It had to.

It all fit perfectly.


	37. Chapter 37

Frida's chest bubbled with joy as she stood there with her eyes upon the horizon, with Ragnhildir resting on her hip and Sigurd holding her hand, surrounded by all the other villagers.

Ubbe was standing at the end of the main bridge of the harbor together with his brothers Hvitserk and Ivar, and their eyes were like glued to the black flag that waved across the anemone blue late summer sky far out over the sea. The tension of excitement lay thick in the salty air that snaked between them all, while seven beautiful Viking boats were steering towards them all, cutting through the deep blue beneath them to finally reach back to their homes.

Frida could feel her heart drumming eagerly in her chest, while her daughter stirred vividly on her hip, pointing her little finger to the ships and looking up at her mother with big green eyes, a huge grin on her face.

She knew who was coming back to hold her again. And Frida could not help but to chuckle sweetly and plant soft kisses on Ragnhildir's thin blonde hair as the ships came but closer and closer, feeling the exact same exhilaration as was visible on her daughter's face.

As soon as the boats were close enough for the villagers to hear the cheers and yells from the rowing men, Frida's eyes searched through all the exhausted faces of the returned Northmen, her mind focused on finding only one pair of icy blue crystals and have them burn her skin delicately, a feeling that she missed more than anything else in the whole world.

Rollo was there, Floki was there, Torstein, Lagertha, Erik, Athelstan, Bjørn…

Warmth exploded in her chest when her eyes fell upon the heavy braiding, and she heard herself sigh out, flushed with relief and relish.

She could see that he was yelling our orders, distributing and managing the treasure they had brought with them home, and she noticed how tired he looked, how his facial features seemed to have sunken a bit in, how dark circles traced his eyes, and how deep lines carved his forehead.

But she could not help but to rejoice over finally seeing him again, no matter how worn or frayed he looked.

"Look, Ragnhildir, there he is!" Frida whispered in her daughter's ear just before her eyes finally met with his, and she felt her heart melt away from the warmth that exploded inside her as she took in his burning glaze, felt it on her as a fiery sun returning on the skies after the most bitter and cold winter. She sensed something wet travel down her cheeks when she saw him curling his lips at her, a smug smile quickly traveling over his face, and Frida chuckled to herself, as relief washed over her.

She was relieved by the fact that he had come home. Relieved by the fact that he was not visibly hurt. Relieved by the fact that their king had finally returned to them.

Frida could not tear her eyes away from him as he made his way to the bridge, and she had to restrain herself from simply letting go of Sigurd and Ragnhildir to run to him and throw herself into his arms. But she kept still, in position, like the mother she was.

Like the queen she was. The queen waiting for her king.

It was as if time stood still as Ragnar walked along the bridge after having hugged and kissed his sons, and he greeted all the villagers, greeted his people, but Frida waited impatiently with her grip tightening more and more around Ragnhildir as he moved closer to them. When his eyes finally turned back to Frida's, there were only a couple of feet between them, and she watched him smiling shyly at her with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Welcome home," Frida breathed in a warm voice.

She felt like she was glowing as her husband's eyes traveled over her as she stood there with his children, one of them on her hip, another in her hand, and a third inside her growing belly. She felt even bigger this time than she had done during her first pregnancy.

Sigurd let go of Frida's hand, and she chuckled when she saw him shooting over to hurl himself into his father's arms, tucking his arms tightly around him, causing his father to smile one of Frida's favorite smiles.

Ragnar loved his sons very dearly, and a lot of what he was doing was to gain a great legacy to pass on to his children. And whenever one of his children showed him affection, even as he had been gone for many months, a certain light would shine in his eyes and a special smile would spread over his lips.

"I have missed you," Ragnar grinned while ruffling Sigurd's golden hair. "You're getting so big."

Ragnar's eyes lingered on Frida's face. She felt them burning her, piercing her, and she sighed affectionately as the familiar warmth he always caused her to feel soon pulsed through her body.

She had missed this sensation for so many moons, it almost felt like a dream as she stood there. As another one of the many dreams she had dreamt where Ragnar returned to her.

He walked slowly towards her, and his eyes turned to his daughter, who had her arms stretched out at him. He took her in his arms and swung around himself as he hugged her, whispering into her ear with a crooked smile on his lips.

As he took the last step towards Frida, the last step that separated them from each other, he fell to his knees with Ragnhildir on his hips. Frida's eyes widened when she felt him stroke his hand over her belly, before he cupped it and leaned in to press his forehead against it.

Frida felt her throat tightening and her chest bubbling, and she could not help but to reach up her own hands to cup her belly. She turned her eyes down to her husband in front of her and watched him mumbling something she could not hear to her belly, to his coming child inside of her.

"Is that not right, Ragnhildir?" she made out from them, and she watched as he let his daughter's hand up to touch her belly too. "Your baby brother will be big and strong, like Tyr!"

Ragnar made big eyes at her, before he rose to his feet again, his eyes immediately locking with Frida's.

Frida widened her eyes too, and looked at him with questioning eyes. "Baby brother?"

Ragnar shifted Ragnhildir to sit on his other hip, and narrowed his eyes at her, his usual smug smile creeping up on his lips. He raised his eyebrows at her as he whispered: "The gods told me."

Frida finally leaned forward and crashed her lips upon his. Her entire body tensed as she felt him kiss her back, cupping her head with his free hand and hugging her tighter. His salty taste spread over her tongue and made her close her eyes.

It had been far too long.

She heard Ragnar breathing hard as she reached her arms around him to hug him, and she felt her face flush with heat. When their lips parted, Ragnar whispered softly to her, his voice thick: "I have missed you more than… anything."

His breath was sweet on her skin, and as his words traveled into her ear and warmed through her body like newly brewed honey mead she felt an unexpected tear leave her eye and travel down her chin, as she thought back to the many times she had stood by the tree behind the longhouse and hoping that he would stand there with her, like he had done on the day that he left.

He kissed her pasionately one more time, before Frida whispered: "I don't want us to be apart again, husband." She closed her eyes as the words left her lips.

"You are right," he stated sweetly as he reached his arm around her shoulder, turning them both around to walk back to the longhouse, "We should stay together."

Frida smiled at him, wondering whether he really meant what he had just said. Would he really be with her from now on, even if he was to go to England again? Would he bring her?

She tried to find an answer on the expression of his face, but he had his eyes turned to the oncoming village ahead of them, the light of his eyes turned away from her, so she could not tell. And Frida let it slide for the time being.

She wanted to rejoice the time that lay ahead of her, a time where they would be together like they used to. They would hold a homecoming feast tonight to celebrate their fortunate raid, for they had brought home more treasure than Frida had ever laid her eyes upon in her whole life, and they had not lost many men.

But as much as Frida loved having feasts at their home, she longed even more for being alone with Ragnar again.

And have his smell on her body.

Frida smiled to herself as they reached the main path of the village that lead to the longhouse. She hoped the feast would not be too long.


	38. Chapter 38

Helga had acted strangely since Frida had brought the two children to the longhouse. Not only did she not say much, she kept sending long stares in the direction of them, glaring at them secretively whenever she did not think Frida was watching her. Even as they dined at the longtable, she ate in silence, smiling innocently whenever her eyes would meet with Frida's.

Elisef, another woman whose husband had left to go raiding in England, too acted weirdly, and Frida felt a bit like she should know why. When the food had been set on the table, the brother and the sister eagerly swallowed it almost without chewing it first, and Frida could not help but to feel warm inside as she watched them eating in silence while her hand reached down under the table to stroke Freke's furry head.

He was eyeing them intently, but Frida was surprised when she saw the little girl bending her head under the table to look at him, the almost full grown wolf, before smiling widely, her eyes quickly locking with Frida's as she resurfaced. A strange chilling sensation ran over Frida's skin as she watched the two of them over the table, the flickering lights of the candles sending shadows to dance over their faces, making them appear much older than they had first seemed for her to be.

Frida drank secretively from her horn. The silence that hovered around them was mysterious, and she felt like she was the only one in the room who was oblivious to what was actually going on. As if there was something crucial to the situation that she had not come to realize yet.

"What are you two called?" she dared to voice out over the table, causing all eyes to fall upon her.

She smiled sweetly at the children, ignoring the awkward tension that lay thick in the warm air of the room. She wanted to know why everyone around her acted so strange. And she wanted to know why they made her feel so strange.

Both of them stared at her with their grey shining eyes, and they simultaneously reached up to grab their cups, drinking slowly while keeping their eyes on her. When they did not answer her, she felt a slightly gnawing irritation starting to creep at the sides of her skull, and she reached up to press a finger to her temple.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd appearing at the door, peeping their heads in to see the new visitors. She motioned for them to come over and join them at the table, her eyes never leaving the two strange children. They had not said anything since their first meeting with Frida, and she was starting to get nervous.

Their air was so vivid and wild, she could not make out what they were planning to do or say. So she tried again.

"If I sing you another song, will you then tell me what I should call you?"

The brother and the sister looked at each other, weighing her words between them. Frida felt Sigurd tugging at her dress, and she pulled him up to sit on her lap. The two children watched her every movement. A small wave of relief washed over her when she saw them both nodding, accepting her terms. She reached up her hand to stroke Sigurd's blonde hair gently, finally letting her eyes rest on something else than the greys of the strange children at the other side of the table.

"Sigurd, which song do you think they'd like the best?" she breathed calmly even though her insides were in turmoil.

She felt like this was somewhat important, as if someone was watching her dealing with them. She saw how Sigurd's eyes lit up, and his body stirring lightly in eager as he put his finger to his mouth, considering his options.

The room was more quiet than usual. The spring had pulled heavy clouds of rain with it, but as summer had rolled over the skies above them, no rain was drumming on the roof above them. It was only the crackling of burning logs in the fire that lingered between them and the slow heartbeat of the new blacksmith hammering on his anvil somewhere in the village soothingly setting the rhythm of their breathing.

Sigurd's eyes rested on her features for a quick moment before his face lit up. "The one about our lands!"

A wide smile grew on Frida's face as she saw how his eyes shone, and she nodded slowly before turning to look at the two red blonde children again.

"Yes, I think they'd like that one too," she smiled, and she could sense how Helga was looking at her from the end of the longtable.

She felt like she was on a trial, but her voice sounded surprisingly calm when she finally started singing. The song was slow, but she had always thought it to sound like a fairytale, like a dream, like the stories from the sagas of the old times. The room was darkening along with the setting sun as she recalled the song that she had heard the women of Kattegat sing many times, when they were harvesting or plowing in the fields. It resonated hope and pride. She closed her eyes as her voice filled the otherwise silent room:

"A lovely land is ours  
with spreading, shady breeches,  
near Baltic's saltry strand.  
Her hills and valeys gently fall,  
her name of old is Denmark  
And she is Freyja's hall."

Even though Frida felt all eyes on her, she kept hers closed. Images of her life before she came to this land passed through her mind, and she felt her heart swell in her chest. She was thankful that she could call these lands home, that she finally felt like she belonged. Sigurd reached his arms around her and snuggled closer to her, resting his cheek on her chest. Warmth slowly filled her stomach as her voice waved through the room.

"In days of long-ago,  
the armoured giants rested  
between their bloody frays.  
Then forth they went the foe to face,  
now found in stone-set barrows,  
their final resting place."

Frida finally opened her eyes to see the brother and the sister eyeing her intently. Their faces were flushed and excited, and they listened to the story of her song unfold itself over the candles on the table.

"This land is yet so fair,  
the waters blue around her,  
and green are still her leaves.  
Noble women, maidens fair,  
and men and lads so skillfull  
dwell still on these Northern isles."

A stingy pain flashed quickly over her heart as her thoughts traveled to Ragnar. She wished that he could hear her singing, that he could feel the same sensations as she did in this moment, and the volume of her voice grew stronger with the last verse. Her heart was not whole when he was not here, and her voice shook with emotion as she completely forgot where she was, picturing Ragnar in front of her, being with her again.

"Hail king and fatherland!  
Hail every Dane who labors  
to do his very best.  
Our ancient lands shall endure,  
as long as the beech trees reflect  
their crowns in the blue wave."

When the song ended, a deafening silence fell amongst them. Frida felt the change in the two children's air, and she saw how they smiled wickedly at her, their grey eyes shining even more than they had before. There was something unearthly about their presence, and her smile faded quickly when she saw them both rising to their feet.

Helga's voice suddenly chirped from the end of the table, startling Frida heavily: "It would be rude of you to deny our queen your names, now that she sang you a song, would it not?"

Frida stared at Helga with her mouth open, but she clasped it shut when she saw her smiling at the two of them.

Irritation and mischief washed over both of their faces, and the boy locked his eyes with her while the girl started walking with short steps towards the door. Frida rose from her feet too now, handing Sigurd over to Elisef.

She did not want them to leave. Not yet.

The boy that still lingered at the table burned her with his wild eyes. An uncomfortable wave washed over her body as his voice flared: "A queen should go with her king when he conquers such big waves. Always."

And with those words, the boy broke into a run, and like lightning he flashed across the floor of the long-hall, disappearing right before her eyes in a swift movement. Frida was frozen as she still stood staring at the spot from where the boy had disappeared, and she felt the hairs of her neck stand, disbelief washing over her as she realized what had just happened.

When she too broke into a run for the door, Freke followed her, and they both hurled themselves out of the room, their eyes quickly scanning for the children when they reached the outside.

But they had vanished.

Frida felt her heart sink heavy in her chest when she realized that the two children were nowhere to be found, and she heard Freke whimpering at her side, his tail cropped nervously up between his legs and his ears confusedly turning at every sound around them, while his nose searched every motion of the wind, trying to find a trace of where they had gone.

And Frida felt fear travel down her spine when he did not find it.

Because Freke always found it. The words of the strange boy sounded loudly in her head as she stared at the path before her in disbelief.

 _"A queen should go with her king when he conquers such big waves. Always."_

She did not know what it meant, but she knew that she had to figure it out. Those two had not come here by chance. They had brought her a message.

* * *

 **Let's see if you guys recognized it: which song have I used here? :D  
**

 **Also, please leave a review! I really want to know how I'm doing, and what you're thinking. It helps me write faster :) Huuugs.**


	39. Chapter 39

**Hey guys! I am sorry that it took me so long to update, I am very busy at the moment, but I am trying the best I can to update fast. And OMG! We've almost reached a hundred followers on this story! I am overwhelmed. Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited and reviewed. It means the world to me. I probably would not have continued for this long, if it weren't for you guys. However, I am determined to finish this story, even if it takes me a while :)**

 **I was kind of dissapointed that no one guessed the song in the last chapter. Is it because you simply don't know it, or do you think I'm being annoying with all the songs? I'd like to know, so I don't continue to do something you don't like.**

 **Please comment on what you think, I LOVE reviews :D Enjoy!**

* * *

Frida sighed out heavily when the meeting in the longhouse was finally over.

There had been many complaints to deal with, and meanwhile Frida did solve most of them with the help of Elisef, her thoughts were somewhere completely different the whole time. As she sat there in the boiling summer heat of the long-hall, she furrowed her brows thoughtfully, her hands swaying over her ever growing belly while she lightly bit on the nail of her thumb, thinking about last night's events.

After the two children had disappeared, Frida had not turned around to the longhouse to ask Helga and Elisef what on earth had happened, but instead she had found herself trotting her way, quickly, along the paths of the village, ending up at a door that she had only entered once before.

The door to the seer's house.

The room had been just as dark and creepy as she remembered it to be, and she immediately regretted her stepping in there, when the door closed behind her and a hideous smell filled her nostrils.

A smell of rotten flesh and dust lingered heavily in the thick air, and she felt like she had stepped into another world, a world in which magical beings and the gods were more real than her own heartbeat itself. Frida had sat down on the stool facing the table that was placed in the middle of the room, as Ragnar had done when she had been there with him, and she had waited impatiently for the ancient one to come to her. But when she had heard a gurgling laugh, a wet and throaty larking coming from the darkest corner of the room, enormous waves of chilling goosebumps had spread over her entire body, petrifying her as she sat there.

The cloaked figure had moved slowly towards her, dragging his feet with him as he came closer, while he chuckled in slow breaths, filling the room with his unearthly tone of voice, causing the little creature in her stomach to stir nervously beneath her skin.

Frida still could not look at him properly. She felt like a child as she sensed his eyes upon her face, and while she kept hers lowered on the wooden table in front of her, she heard his voice coming over her.

"What brings the queen here, to intrude an old man's rest?" croaked the voice, and she closed her eyes as regret washed up in her mouth.

If only Ragnar had been here with her.

"Please," she whispered in a quick breath, "in here, I am just Frida."

She heard the seer chuckling again, and she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he sat down in front of her on the other side of the table. His skin looked to be as deformed and irritated as ever, his lips as black as a Norse winter's night, and she felt his stare burning her face even if she could not tell if he even had eyes or not.

"Why have you come, Frida?" he asked her in a serious tone, his head tilting at her slightly.

Frida finally dared to raise her head and look at him directly, and she noticed his lips were curled into something that reminded her of a smug grin. However, his air was serious, and his movements still. Frida had a feeling that he already knew very well why she had come.

She felt her chest tightening as she cleared her throat. She did not know whether she really wanted to hear what he had to say or not. But she had to hear it.

"A young brother and sister came here," she started in a trembling voice, while she nervously twitched her hands in her lap, "They told me something which I do not understand."

The room was very silent, and the seer breathed loudly into the room as he reached up his hand to grab a couple of bones that were spread over the table. The sound of the chalky pieces rattling over the wooden planks sent eerie shivers down her spine, causing her body to tremble slightly.

When the seer did not answer her, she went on. She felt out of place in here, as if the whole world was watching her, listening to her every word.

She felt very self-conscious. "They told me that…"

But Frida's words came to a halt when the seer began to laugh again, louder, manically. Her eyes widened when she saw him picking up one of the bones on the table. It was the skull of a big bird.

"The last time you came here, you came with the same questioning eyes that I see before me now. I am beginning to question whether or not you take our gods seriously, Frida."

Frida stared hard on the cloaked figure in front of her, and she felt nettled by his words, a certain knotting feeling constricting her throat heavily, making it difficult for her to breathe. She did not know how to answer him.

The cloak sighed out heavily, as if annoyed by her presence alone, while his hands continued to roam over the old bones on the table.

"Let me tell you a story," the seer finally croaked out.

And while the seer carefully chose his words, Frida had to remind herself to breathe while listening.

"One day, the gods Thor and Loki were riding Thor's war chariot that was pulled along by the billy-goats Tandgnost and Tandgrisner. As they passed by Midgård, they found themselves to be both tired and hungry, so they pulled in at the first house they saw. This house belonged to the farmer Eigil Skytten, who was very hospitable, and they were welcomed by him and his family. He had a wife, Groa, and two children.

Eigil told them that they were very welcome to rest their tired legs in their house, however, they had very little food, they could barely feed themselves. Thor told them that food was not a problem, and so he immediately slaughtered one of his goats, ordering them to only eat the meat of the bones, but never suck out the marrow nor break even a single one of them.

The family and the two gods feasted mightily when the stew had been prepared, and when all the bellies of the house were full, everyone went to sleep. When morning came, and Thor swung Mjølnir over his chariot, he noticed that one of his goats had a limp. Thor became infuriated, and he thundered into the family's house once more, asking who had sucked out the marrow of goat's leg in a roar.

It was Tjalfe, one of the children, who came to confess his deeds, and Thor was angrier than ever. But to placate him, Eigil offered that Thor was to take his children with him, as servants, so the family would not live a harsh punishment of the gods. Thor agreed to his terms, and the children of Eigil were brought with the two gods to Asgård."

When the seer did not speak anymore, Frida stared at him with a carved forehead. The silence that followed his tale was thundering, rushing for her ears, and she opened her mouth to question it. She did not know what to do with this tale.

"I'm sorry," she admitted in a thin voice, "but I do not see how that has anything to do with what happened yesterday."

She felt her heart sink in her chest. She had really hoped that the seer would help her come to understand.

A rattling snicker sounded from the seer, as Frida put her head in her hands. She felt helpless.

"It has everything to do with yesterday," the seer grinned horribly in a wet clatter.

Frida felt frustration explode inside of her chest, and she felt her muscles flexing tightly, her fists clenching in her lap.

"But!" she started, immediately interrupted by the cloaked figure: "Follow the raven."

His statement was blunt, demanding, and Frida clasped her lips shut. The ancient one in front of her smiled crookedly at her as he reached out his boney hand.

Their conversation was over.

Frida had left the house with a stale taste lingering on her tongue and a clouded head. She felt even more confused than before she had visited the ancient one, and she hated herself for not comprehending what had happened.

And while she sat there on the throne, pressing a finger to one of the temples on the side of her head, she stared up at the great banner that hung over the entrance to the long-hall. It was a black flag, Ragnar's symbol, and at the center there was the image of a raven woven with golden thread.

Frida's eyes flew open, and she rose to her feet in a swift movement with her eyes stuck on the banner. A wave of realization washed over her as she walked towards it, and a big smile crept over her lips, a stone finally leaving her shoulders.

This was what it meant.

It had to. It all fit perfectly.

* * *

 **What do you think it means?**

 ***Oh, and to anyone of you who wondered about the song in chapter 38, it was Denmark's National Anthem :D It is very Viking, so I thought it to be appropriate ;-)**


	40. Chapter 40

**Hi guys!**

 **I don't know whether you guys can see the same statistics on the story that I can, but I was really surprised to see that aside the English-speaking countries, there are actually a lot of French readers among you! Behind the US, the UK, Australia and Canada comes France, and then Sweden ("hello neighbors!"), and then Germany (another neighbor! "hi!") I'm excited to see that you like my story, as Danish as it is, it means a lot to me :)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Frida's chest bubbled with joy as she stood there with her eyes upon the horizon, with Ragnhildir resting on her hip and Sigurd holding her hand, surrounded by all the other villagers.

Ubbe was standing at the end of the main bridge of the harbor together with his brothers Hvitserk and Ivar, and their eyes were like glued to the black flag that waved across the anemone blue late summer sky far out over the sea. The tension of excitement lay thick in the salty air that snaked between them all, while seven beautiful Viking boats were steering towards them all, cutting through the deep blue beneath them to finally reach back to their homes.

Frida could feel her heart drumming eagerly in her chest, while her daughter stirred vividly on her hip, pointing her little finger to the ships and looking up at her mother with big eyes, a huge grin on her face.

She knew who was coming back to hold her again. And Frida could not help but to chuckle sweetly and plant soft kisses on Ragnhildir's thin blonde hair as the ships came but closer and closer, feeling the exact same exhilaration as was visible on her daughter's face.

As soon as the boats were close enough for the villagers to hear the cheers and yells from the rowing men, Frida's eyes searched through all the exhausted faces of the returned Northmen, her mind focused on finding only one pair of icy blue crystals and have them burn her skin delicately, a feeling that she missed more than anything else in the whole world.

Rollo was there, Floki was there, Torstein, Lagertha, Erik, Athelstan, Bjørn…

Warmth exploded in her chest when her eyes fell upon the whip-like braiding, and she heard herself sigh out, flushed with relief and relish.

She could see that he was yelling our orders, distributing and managing the treasure they had brought with them home, and she noticed how tired he looked, how his facial features seemed to have sunken a bit in, how dark circles traced his eyes, and how deep lines carved his forehead.

But she could not help but to rejoice over finally seeing him again, no matter how worn or frayed he looked.

"Look, Ragnhildir, there he is!" Frida whispered in her daughter's ear just before her eyes finally met with his, and she felt her heart melt away from the warmth that exploded inside her as she took in his burning glaze, felt it on her as a fiery sun returning on the skies after the most bitter and cold winter. She sensed something wet travel down her cheeks when she saw him curling his lips at her, a smug smile quickly traveling over his face, and Frida chuckled to herself, as relief washed over her.

She was relieved by the fact that he had come home.

Relieved by the fact that he was not visibly hurt.

Relieved by the fact that their king had finally returned to them.

Frida could not tear her eyes away from him as he made his way to the bridge, and she had to restrain herself from simply letting go of Sigurd and Ragnhildir to run to him and throw herself into his arms. But she kept still, in position like the mother she was.

Like the queen she was. The queen waiting for her king.

It was as if time stood still as Ragnar walked along the bridge after having hugged and kissed his sons, and he greeted all the villagers, greeted his people, but Frida waited impatiently with her grip tightening more and more around Ragnhildir as he moved closer to them. When his eyes finally turned back to Frida's, there were only a couple of feet between them, and she watched him smiling shyly at her with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Welcome home," Frida breathed in a warm voice.

She felt like she was glowing as her husband's eyes traveled over her as she stood there with his children, one of them on her hip, another in her hand, and a third inside her growing belly. She felt even bigger this time than she had done during her first pregnancy.

Sigurd let go of Frida's hand, and she chuckled when she saw him shooting over to hurl himself into his father's arms, tucking his arms tightly around him, causing his father to smile one of Frida's favorite smiles.

Ragnar loved his sons very dearly, and a lot of what he was doing was to gain a great legacy to pass on to his children. And whenever one of his children showed him affection, even as he had been gone for many months, a certain light would shine in his eyes and a special smile would spread over his lips.

"I have missed you," Ragnar grinned while ruffling Sigurd's golden hair, "You're getting so big."

Ragnar's eyes lingered on Frida's face, she felt them burning her, piercing her, and she sighed affectionately as the familiar warmth he always caused her to feel soon pulsed through her body.

She had missed this sensation for so many moons, it almost felt like a dream as she stood there. As another one of the many dreams she had dreamt where Ragnar returned to her.

He walked slowly towards her, and his eyes turned to his daughter, who had her arms stretched out at him. He took her in his arms and swung around himself as he hugged her, whispering into her ear with a crooked smile on his lips.

As he took the last step towards Frida, the last step that separated them from each other, he fell to his knees with Ragnhildir on his hips. Frida's eyes widened when she felt him stroke his hand over her belly, before he cupped it and leaned in to press his forehead against it.

Frida felt her throat tightening and her chest bubbling, and she could not help but to reach up her own hands to cup her belly, and she turned her eyes down to her husband in front of her and watched him mumbling something she could not hear to her belly, to his coming child inside of her.

"Is that not right, Ragnhildir?" she made out from them, and she watched as he let his daughter's hand up to touch her belly too. "Your baby brother will be big and strong, like Tyr!"

Ragnar made big eyes at her, before he rose to his feet again, his eyes immediately locking with Frida's.

Frida widened her eyes too, and looked at him with questioning eyes. "Baby brother?"

Ragnar shifted Ragnhildir to sit on his other hip, and narrowed his eyes at her, his usual smug smile creeping up on his lips. He raised his eyebrows at her as he whispered: "The gods told me."

Frida finally leaned forward and crashed her lips upon his.

Her entire body tensed as she felt him kiss her back, cupping her head with his free hand and hugging her tighter. His salty taste spread over her tongue and made her close her eyes.

It had been far too long.

She heard Ragnar breathing hard as she reached her arms around him to hug him, and she felt her face flush with heat.

When their lips parted, Ragnar whispered softly to her, his voice thick: "I have missed you more than… anything."

His breath was sweet on her skin, and as his words traveled into her ear and warmed through her body like newly brewed honey mead she felt an unexpected tear leave her eye and travel down her chin, as she thought back to the many times she had stood by the tree behind the longhouse and hoping that he would stand there with her, like he had done on the day that he left.

He kissed her pasionately one more time, before Frida whispered: "I don't want us to be apart again, husband."

She closed her eyes as the words left her lips.

"You are right," he stated sweetly as he reached his arm around her shoulder, turning them both around to walk back to the longhouse, "We should stay together."

Frida smiled at him, wondering whether he really meant what he had just said.

Would he really be with her from now on, even if he was to go to England again? Would he bring her?

She tried to find an answer on the expression of his face, but he had his eyes turned to the oncoming village ahead of them, the light of his eyes turned away from her, so she could not tell. And Frida let it slide for the time being.

She wanted to rejoice the time that lay ahead of her, a time where they would be together like they used to. They would hold a homecoming feast tonight to celebrate their fortunate raid, for they had brought home more treasure than Frida had ever laid her eyes upon in her whole life, and they had not lost many men.

But as much as Frida loved having feasts at their home, she longed even more for being alone with Ragnar again.

And have his smell on her body.

Frida smiled to herself as they reached the main path of the village that lead to the longhouse. She hoped the feast would not be too long.


	41. Chapter 41

**Hi guys! Again, I am sorry that I'm not uploading that fast, but I have entered my exam period, and I will probably not be uploading any faster until well past Christmas. I will however, try to keep it at a minimum of 1 chapter per week.**

 **How's the weather where you are? Here in Denmark it has been horrible for the past couple of weeks. First, we had a big storm raging over us. He was called Gorm (named after the great Viking king that ruled around 900 A.D. in Denmark, father of Harald Bluetooth that was to unite Denmark into one kingdom). Then, another storm hit. She was called Helga :D haha. So Helga's spirit has roamed over us here in DK, how about where you guys are at?**

 **Oh and ATTENTION! I have changed a detail in the story. I had totally mixed up the history, and I realized the two children had to be a boy and a girl. Their characters are still the same besides that, so no need for you to read from chapter 38 again.**

 **Btw, this chapter is very different from the rest of them. This "installment" will reach over two chapters, I think :) (I will shut up now)**

* * *

 ***Hjemkomst del 1**

All eyes were on her as she danced along the dusty floors by the fireside. Her movements were slow and elegant, as if she had the waves of the sea running alongside her own blood, as if she was a child of Njord himself, carrying the power of the tides in her veins.

Her hair was wavy from the braids that had shaped her warm golden locks earlier this day, and they fell loosely over her chest that was already bulking beautifully for the child that was growing inside of her belly.

He felt a certain arousal shooting forth from his pelvis, and he straightened himself subtly in his chair, while reaching up his cup to gulp down a healthy sip of honey mead while narrowing his eyes at the woman in front of him, who was dancing to the beat of the drum.

Her clothing was almost see-through as she danced in the light of the flames behind her, and Ragnar felt his heart dancing along to the music, and he felt Freyr looking at her through his own two eyes, rejoicing the female figure with the same enjoyment that pumped through Ragnar's veins, hardening him as he sat there.

This woman was not alike anyone he had ever laid his eyes upon.

Her movements were different, her eyes had a different light in them, and her laughter rang with such a soothing tone that no one in this room would not agree that she was from a different world than them. But the beat of her heart was the same as theirs, the taste of her blood just like his own Norse blood.

He could not help but to smile to himself behind his drinking horn.

He had never truly come to understand why the gods had chosen her for him. But he could see why they admired her beauty, for he felt a strong urge to keep his eyes on her as he sat there on his throne, like he always did when she was in the same room as him.

Her presence beamed with love and tender care, however, she too glowed with a strength that had always brought him to think about the goddess Freyja. Frida was just like her. She was sensual, more so than any Norse woman he had ever been with, and yet, her passion was just as fiery and stout as the screams of the shield maidens that fought alongside of him when they were battling in the wall.

Ragnar smiled when he noticed Athelstan's eyes roaming over to Frida too, and he wondered whether he had asked himself the same questions as Ragnar had.

How had she turned her ways to theirs that easily? How had she simply accepted and welcomed their gods into her heart and flesh, without having known them before?

Ragnar had asked his Father these questions every day since they had brought her here. But the All-father had never really answered them with words or visions, he had answered them through Frida and her actions, through her love for him and through the children she gladly brought him. And while Ragnar could see how Frida found their gods to be much more real and natural than her old god, the Christian god, he had tried to discard himself with the longing questions he had for this strange god.

Ragnar knew that if he celebrated the blood of Athelstan's Christ, the blood that covered his own hands, the blood of the wicked and the brave, would run for no one but himself.

Not for any god, not for Odin nor Thor, but only for himself.

And he had not killed beings for his own good. Never.

His actions were always thought through, his decisions always consulted with the gods before being made, and he had never done anything for his own happiness. He had done it for their happiness, and for his people's too.

Ragnar was ripped away from his stream of thoughts when he felt a small tap on his shoulder, and he turned his head slightly to see Floki standing there next to him with a sneaky grin on his lips. Ragnar straightened himself a bit more in his chair, and turned his gaze back to Frida, pushing his lips out a bit.

"Good to be home again? Your daughter must have missed you a lot," Ragnar breathed, while reaching up his hand to run it through his beard in slow movements.

He saw Floki curling his lips a bit, while his eyes were still on the crowd in front of them.

"Yeah, she's a perky little one," he said in a light tone, before his eyes turned to Ragnar's, "but I have something to tell you, Ragnar. Something that happened here, while we were away."

Ragnar stared into Floki's greyish blue eyes that seemed to be almost shining at him through the dark circles around them, and he raised an eyebrow. Floki jumped to the other side of his chair, and sat down on his heels with a crazed expression on his face.

"And?" Ragnar voiced, a slight tone of impatience on his tongue.

When news came from Floki, Ragnar had come to learn that he was to listen carefully but take it with a grain of salt. For Floki was very colored by the gods, and sometimes Ragnar felt like Floki listened to gods that he himself was very distanced from. Floki had a certain connection with other forces, darker ones, forces that Ragnar did not know very well. Forces that were perceived as dangerous, wicked.

Floki's face split into a wide smile, and a shadow ran over his face, making him appear twisted somehow, causing Ragnar to lower his eyes a bit. "It seems that a couple of children payed our women a little visit, while we were away."

Ragnar raised his eyes and stared into Floki's when the last word had slipped over his tongue, and he leaned a bit forward, turning his head so that he could hear him better.

"A couple of children?" He furrowed his eyebrows slightly, and sat down his horn.

"Yes," Floki's voice flared into his ear, "A young brother and his sister."

Ragnar turned his head to look at Floki again in a swift movement, his words like paste down his ears.

"What did they want here?" he asked in a whisper, while the room around him shrunk into a place where Floki and him were the only ones, forgetting all about the dancing woman in front of them.

Floki blew out a barking laugh, his lips stretched over his face from ear to ear. "They came to hear our queen sing. In return, they told her something."

His body twitched in excitement, and he spilled some of the contents of his drinking horn into the deer rugs under them. Ragnar stared at him, waiting.

Floki's eyes scanned the room around them, before they returned to Ragnar's, twitching slightly.

"They told her that a queen never lets her king travel great waters without her."

Ragnar's eyes widened, and he turned his eyes to the floor in front of him, furrowing his brows as he gulped down.

"And you are sure that they were Tjalfe and Røskva?" he asked in a small voice.

But he already knew the answer to that. It was just like in the old sagas.

He felt Floki's breath on his cheek, and a slow chill ran down his spine, when he felt his whispers in his ear. "Hm, Ragnar, you tell me."

Ragnar's eyes traveled over to the beautiful woman in front of him, moving in such slow and sensual movements, following the rhythm of the music very delicately, almost as if she felt it inside of her, as if she was part of it, one with it. He felt a sour taste in his mouth, and he felt his face fall a little bit, as he weighed his situation in his mind.

But Floki's words interrupted him quickly, and he put his head in his hands when Floki said: "So, it is really true, then. She is your Valkyrie, Ragnar."

Floki was right. It made sense like that. Ragnar had felt his Father's hand over them as they had found passage to England. Odin had fostered a curiosity in Ragnar that had led him this far, and he had guided him even in the most dangerous paths as they had traveled over the far sea to a shore that no Northman believed existed.

And Thor had too been with him, and he had had the sea roar around them, letting them travel with speed and might to the English shores, and strengthening them in their search for another kingdom. Frida was part of their plan. And it would be foolish not to think that the gods would not send their word by their own servants. They had done so many times in the sagas.

Tjalfe and Røskva had come here to tell Frida that she was to join her king over the great seas.

Ragnar felt something heavy sink inside of him. He was to bring her back to her homeland.

To England.

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 ***Hjemkost del 1: "Homecoming part 1"**


	42. Chapter 42

**Hi guys! I've finally gotten around to write the next chapter. I really hope you enjoy! It is part two of my Ragnar-installment. Warning: Smut is coming.**

 **Oh, and Sweden! I see that you are liking my story too! I am very glad :D Skål från Danmark!**

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 ***Hjemkost del 2**

A gush of air escaped all the villagers' lungs when the tall foreign men entered the market place of the small village they had come by in their search for a city. The villagers' eyes were blackened when Ragnar and his fellow Northmen slowly walked past the wooden gates that were open for them to merely stroll through. And the Saxon faces turned white when they heard their church bells starting to ring out in alarm.

Ragnar sneaked a quick look out of the corner of his eye to Rollo, who was staring at him with a heaving chest and a dead look in his eyes.

Rollo always got that look in his eyes when in battle, the look of a slayer. It was knowing that whatever would happen next, the gods would follow his every footsteps on the path.

"Pagans!" someone hissed in a whisper from behind a wooden stand, and Ragnar's eyes quickly turned to his side, his muscles tensed, his body flexed.

His eyes caught a couple of grey ones behind the counter of the wooden stand, a fearful grey substance staring at him from behind dirt covered shaggy hairs, and they widened as Ragnar smiled at him, a hint of regret flushing over them. When Ragnar noticed movement from the tower north of the market place, he quickly crouched his body, scanning the balcony of the tower.

Archers had moved to the stony edge of the tall building, and they were already pointing their arrows down at his men.

"Shield wall!" Ragnar roared, and in a swift movement, all of his men gathered into a wall looking position, covering themselves behind a wall of shields, shadowing themselves behind the woods of their homeland beeches.

The whistling sounds of iron cutting through air sounded around them, and soon their shields were hit with a rain of arrows.

Ragnar felt his heart drumming heavily in his chest, a smile growing on his lips. His eyes traveled quickly to Bjørn who were not far from him, and he sent him a crazed smile.

"You are not going to win, Northmen!" a round voice flared over the market place, causing a certain silence to fall over the many men in there.

Ragnar turned his ear in the direction of the shouting man, smiling up at Torstein in front of him. Small pearls of sweat started gathering on his upper lip, and he clenched his fist around his axe. The weather was so humid in England, he wondered if that was why all the Saxons smelled so badly.

The round voice rang over the crowd in the market place again, stronger this time, steadier. "We have you surrounded already. Give up now, and spare yourselves of a pointless death."

Ragnar quickly translated the English words into Norse, and he soon heard Floki snicker behind him, and he looked up to see Torstein laughing behind his shield, shaking his head lightly.

"The wolf and the dog do not play together," Rollo growled form his chest, and Ragnar smiled at his brother's words, remembering them all too well from the old sagas.

Ragnar lifted his hand into the air, signaling for his fellow warriors to hold their position. He wanted to see if these Saxons would be open to talk.

He cleared his throat, rising a bit on his feet, just so that he was just covered by the shields. He felt many eyes on him, awaiting his next move. Ragnar closed his eyes for a quick moment, his breathing deep, as he turned towards the tower.

"We have not come to make enemies," he said, a small smile curling his lips. "We are sea traders, coming from the lands up North."

A moment of silence made sweat pebble from his armpits, his eyes warm and drowsy from the climate. The sun was high even as midday had passed.

"Yes," sounded the voice, "we know who you are. You are the Pagans that have attacked King Ælla's land several times now. You are not welcome here."

Ragnar bit his lower lip, and furrowed his brows in frustration. Word spread fast in England. He had wished to come upon someone who had not yet made a picture of the Northerners, someone who had not heard of the Vikings before.

"What is he saying?" Rollo gnarled from behind his heavy beard.

Ragnar shook his head, waving his hand at his brother. Ragnar looked up into the blue sky above him, dotted with white clouds, and sighed out.

"If you tell us where to find King Ælla, we will leave your village in peace," Ragnar voiced from behind the wooden shields, glad that his fellow warriors were not able to speak the English language. Yet.

"Betrayal is not something we are very fond of here in Northumbria. Not between us civilized, decent men. You will leave immediately, or you will suffer death as your final warning from King Ælla."

Ragnar lowered his shoulders and let his eyes fall to the ground as he tightened his hands around his axe, his lips pushing out a little as he made a whistling sound, the chiming of a small bird sounding for a mere second. But all of his men heard it, and they were ready for it.

"We are not welcome," Ragnar stated bluntly, a little curl on his lips.

The two doors at the bottom of the tower sprang open in a gush of wind, and out of them streamed a big group of Saxon warriors, dressed in shiny iron armors but with fear shining from their faces.

"May the gods be with you," Rollo growled in a deep voice as he shot a quick look over the shields at the men coming towards them.

Rollo let his eyes travel to Ragnar, and he lifted his axe at him, earning Ragnar to repeat the motion. Rollo smiled at him, before turning his head, facing the oncoming crowd, roaring loudly: "Hurra!"

Ragnar turned toward the battlefield too, joining his brother. "Hurra!"

Soon all of Ragnar's men were fronted with the Saxons, and the Northern axe and Northumbrian sword crossed each other, resounding a ringing clank as the blades bounced off each other. Ragnar moved stealthily, hammering his axe down from behind the round shields, feeling his axe carve into the skull of one of the Saxons before he pulled his arm back.

Blood followed the blade of his axe and left a red trail over his face as his eyes turned upwards to the tower, soon staring into a couple of light brown eyes.

They were the eyes of the man that had spoken before.

Ragnar smiled before diving down between his men, striking from below, pulling in a Saxon warrior by the legs, quickly planting his axe into his face before he could even scream for the mercy of his god. Ragnar felt the power snaking between them, like lightning charging through all of them, causing their hearts to beat in the same heavy rhythm, setting their hearts on fire.

He was going to get to that man and talk to him. He was going to know where King Ælla resided.

...

"Ragnar, my love, are you okay?"

He opened his eyes and felt his body twitching, and he looked around to find Frida's concerned eyes hovering over his face, the words still on her lips as he straightened himself in his chair.

He shook his head slightly, and curled his lips at her.

"Yeah, my thoughts just… wandered," he heard himself say, still reminiscing the bloody scene from back when they were in Northumbria, fighting the men from the tower city.

He reached his hand over to grab his drinking horn, and he closed his eyes as he let the dark liquids fill his belly.

He felt a hand on his thigh, traveling slowly towards his groin, and he opened his eyes to see his wife's staring into his with a hungry light in them. He felt a smile grow over his lips.

He saw her bite down gently on her lower lip, and he tilted his head to the side, taking in the view of her as she touched him.

She opened her lips and started talking, and he was mesmerized by their movement, how they rounded so sweetly when she talked in his language, as she said: "Do you… maybe want to have your thoughts on something else?"

Ragnar chuckled and closed his eyes when he felt her hand squeezing around him between his legs, hissing out as fire shot from his pelvis. He was not used to her being this straight forward, and he took a quick look around to see if anyone had noticed.

Not that it was uncommon here, but it was not common for Frida.

When he felt her squeeze even harder, his eyes shot back to hers, a small gnarl rippling from his chest from her roughness. She cocked her eyebrow at him, and soon rose to her feet, her eyes on his as she started walking towards their bedroom. When Ragnar sent a last look around the people sitting around the fire, he noticed Torstein smiling at him, noting his head in Frida's direction.

"The duties of a husband, huh?"

Ragnar rolled his eyes and sighed out dramatically, throwing his arms in the air. "I cannot get a break."

Torstein laughed out heartwarmingly, raising his horn. Ragnar did the same before turning around, stalking towards his bedroom in calm steps.

Even though he had waited for months for seeing her again, seeing her eyes and her face and her body, he was not prepared for the fire that burned through his body when he saw her lying naked on their bed, only lit by the small flames from the candles that were scattered across the room, shadows dancing over her skin as her eyes roamed over his body as he stood by the door, captivated by the mere sight of her.

Ragnar moved stealthily towards her, pulling at the threads that held together his shirt, feeling like a beast of prey as he closed in on her, staring down at her as he soon towered over her from the end of the bed, throwing his shirt down on the ground in a swift movement.

"I have missed the feeling of having your eyes upon my skin," she whispered in something that reminded him of a moan, and he felt himself hardening as he untied his pants, his blood pumping hastily through his veins, excitement burning his cheeks lightly.

He watched her as she scooted close to him, sitting up on the bed right in front of him and spreading her legs out over each side of him, reaching her arms up to stroke over his bare back. He reached his hand up and stroked her hair, their eyes not leaving each other as she let his pants fall to the floor, leaving him standing naked in front of her.

"And I have missed your taste on my tongue," Frida whispered, her breath clouding over the skin of his stomach, leaving warm shivers to run over his body.

He felt a deep hunger boil in his insides, his breathing deepening, and he closed his eyes hard when he felt her gentle fingers closing around him, for the first time in what seemed like forever.

His hardness throbbed almost painfully in her hands, and without thinking he bucked his hips at her when he felt her warm breath spreading over its tip.

"Mh," she moaned in a liquid voice as she planted small wet kisses along its shaft, while her other hand carefully found its way to the skin below it, her nails steadily crawling over his most sensitive spot, sending another wave of shivers to run over his entire being.

Ragnar felt the muscles of his thighs tensing up, and he reached down his hands to finally feel her skin again, the softness like silk on his calloused skin.

When he felt her closing her mouth around him, warmth and wetness spreading over it like warm milk, he opened his eyes and let them fall down to hers, his breath stuck in his throat, his body crouching down over her. Her eyes were wide but gentle, her soft pink lips spread around him beautifully, and he watched her as she stroked him with her mouth, feeling her tongue run along his hardness and spread over the tip, earning a wave of pleasure to shoot from his pelvis and down through his legs.

There was something extraordinary in looking at a woman when she had your penis in her mouth, some play of power pulsating through her eyes, and Ragnar finally let out his breath, sighing out heavily when she stroked him again.

He reached his hands down to cup her breast, and he noticed how they had grown fuller as had her beautiful belly, and he felt his heart grow inside of his chest. The pleasure waves washed over him repeatedly as she stroked him, and he helplessly watched her, unable to do anything else.

The moans that sounded from her throat sent vibrations over his hardness, and he bucked his hips again, causing the tip to hit the back of her throat. A breathy snarling sounded from her sweet lips, and he tried to control his movements, his breathing staggered as he looked at her.

She smiled and bit her lower lip. "I have missed the feeling of you inside of me, Ragnar, filling me."

An unexpected growl escaped his lips as she looked up at him with innocent eyes, and he bent down and crashed his lips upon hers, forcing her down on the bed with him on top, both of her arms raised above her head.

He reached one of his hands down between her legs, and he breathed out heavily when he felt her wetness spread over his fingers as he let two slide through her lips down there.

If her sweet fragrance had not already brought him on fire, the whimpers that now sounded from her lips would have done the trick.

She responded readily to his touch by bucking her hips at him, causing his fingers to slide deeper. Ragnar growled as he watched her writhing beneath him, and he let his fingers press lightly over her entrance, causing her body to tremble.

His eyes widened when he felt her fingers clasp around his throat, tightening roughly around it, almost blocking his airways completely.

His mind exploded when he saw the look in her eyes as her hand strangled him, and he grabbed her hand in a quick motion, forcing it down wildly while staring into her eyes. He saw her closing her eyes while a smile grew over her lips, and he pushed himself closer to her, reaching down a hand to steer himself to her warm wetness.

He felt wild fires pumping with his blood as he thrust himself inside her, feeling her tight walls around him as he penetrated her, her liquids spreading over him, causing him to hiss out as waves washed over him once more.

Frida cried out, and while Ragnar did not know whether it was from pleasure or pain, he slid out slowly before roughly thrusting himself into her once more, pounding his pelvis against hers, the wet sound of skin hitting skin sounding between them.

"Exactly," Frida whispered in a sensitive voice, a strange tone of relief in her breath as he forced himself inside her again.

Her warmth and tightness had him groaning out over her, and he felt himself shaking with pleasure as his movements became quicker, his thrusts harder. He was not going to last much longer, he felt the explosion building in the pits of his stomach, and he reached one of his hands down to let his thumb trace her lower lip, his eyes staring into hers.

Her eyes flickered as he worked her body, and he panted heavily as the explosion closed in.

"Yes, please Ragnar, come, come, come," Frida whimpered in a small voice that he did not know whether she intended him to hear, "come home, come inside me."

He exploded in a growl, shooting his seed deep into her core, pleasure taking over his body, washing over him under the sound of Frida's moans.

His body trembled as the pleasure rolled over him, and he felt his entire figure slumping down on the bed as soon as the explosion was over. He breathed heavily, and Frida soon scooted over to him, resting her face on his sweat covered chest.

He listened to her breathing for a moment while he looked at her as she lay there, naked, her hair spread wildly over the furs of the bed, panting while tracing a finger over his belly, tickling the skin around his belly button.

"I am home," he breathed in a whisper, stroking his hand over her head, causing her to turn her face to look at him, "finally."

* * *

 ***Homcoming part 2**

 **Fun fact: Did you know that "hurra" (hurray) was used by the Vikings before going to battle, as a battle cry? Today, we usually just use it around birthdays, like English speakers use "hurray" I guess. I wonder, is "hurray" maybe another Norse word that the English took into their language?**


	43. Chapter 43

**Hi guys!**

 **A reader texted me after I posted chapter 42, and she told me that in Russia, you also have a history of the battle cry "hurra." There it is required to use in certain situations during war, and is also commonly used during parades, fireworks, or as an exclamation of joy like in English. Are there more of you out there with some information regarding "hurra"?  
It could be interesting to know where it actually comes from, be it from the Vikings or the Russians. I have a theory that the Vikings might have picked it up when raiding the lands to the East, but it could also have been brought there by them. "Only the gods know" right? ;) **

**There is a short video on You Tube, where Norwegian soldiers use it before going into battle: *** /watch?v=NYy7a8Fhb1w They are saying: "To Valhalla - HURRA!"**

 **I hope you enjoy my 43rd chapter (how did I ever end up with such a long story? :D)**

* * *

Frida woke up with a strange sensation filling her body. She kept her eyes closed, as she could feel the rays of the sun beating down over her eyelids like burning embers, causing her to smile widely into the furs that covered her bed.

She could smell him. His calm, his strength, his love, lingering heavy in the room, making her drowsy all over.

It had to be early, she thought to herself as she listened to the sounds of the village. Inaudible chattering sounded from the long-hall, probably the servants already up and doing the preparations for the coming day, while the bellowing of a rooster sounded from outside somewhere, informing the villagers of the day that was rising with the glowing summer sun.

Frida sighed out in affection and scooted herself closer to the man that was sleeping soundly next to her. Or, at least, she thought that he was sleeping.

"Morning," his raspy voice sounded into her ear, revealing the exhaustion that had finally reached him after the many months of traveling.

Frida turned her head to see his blue crystals shining over her, and she immediately felt her heartbeat deepening.

"Good morning, husband," she smiled as Ragnar reached his hand up to stroke some her hair behind her ear, his movements slow and gentle as she whispered: "Happy midsummer."

Ragnar cocked an eyebrow at her, still stroking her hair gently. "I cannot believe you are already better at remembering our festive days than me," he said in a chuckle, his breath warm and calm over her face.

A loud sighing was heard from below their bed, and they both peeped their eyes over the furs to see Freke glaring at them from the edge of their bed, sleep thick in his eyes and a hint of irritation shining from them.

Frida giggled. "Sorry, boy. Did we wake you up?"

The wolf made a snorting sound through his nose before he rose to his feet, soon stalking off towards one of the corners of the room, his eyes turning to stare at Ragnar.

Frida's giggle turned into a laugh.

"Someone's not happy that I am back, huh?" Ragnar mused, before he let his hand travel under their covers to stroke her stomach.

Frida closed her eyes for a quick moment, rejoicing the feeling of her husband's touch on her belly. "I am," she whispered.

Just as the words had left her lips, she felt Ragnar's air changing slightly, and she quickly opened her eyes to look at him. Concern was obvious in his eyes, even as he tried to avoid her stare by fiddling his fingers through the fur that covered his body. She reached her hand up to cup his face, turning his eyes back to hers while looking at him questioningly.

He kept his eyes on her for a short moment before he let them fall, sighing out with a surrendering breath. "I heard that you had visitors coming here, while we were away?" he voiced, his eyes still not locking with hers.

Frida felt her heartbeat fastening and her breath getting caught in her throat, surprised by the sudden change of the conversation. Images of the young children that had come by several weeks ago flew past her eyes, and she felt like the innocent yet overly knowing light that shone from their grey eyes earned her to feel uncertain and ignorant all over again as she lay there.

She wondered who had told him.

"Did you go to the Seer?" Ragnar asked before she could find an answer, and she tilted her head at him slightly.

"Uh, yes…" she answered, confusion obvious in her voice.

She had wondered how to address him with this ever since he had come home, and here he was, literally asking her as if he knew what had happened already.

Ragnar curled his lips at her. "And what did he say?"

A shiver ran over her skin as she recalled the creepy voice of the ancient one, the rattling of bones sounding in her ear as she remembered how he had talked about following the raven. Her words were shortened and quick, as she said: "He told me a story."

The words lingered heavy between them for a while, strange and unfold, while the rhythm of horse hooves drumming over gravel passed them from outside of the longhouse.

"A story of the gods?" Ragnar breathed, causing Frida to look at him with a feeling that he already knew the answer to his own question.

She nodded slowly, calculatingly, as she tried to make out the strangeness that had clouded over his air.

"Yes, how Thor and Loki rested themselves at a farmer's house here in Midgård."

She felt Ragnar's eyes piercing her.

He knew what she was about to say.

"So the gods sent the children to tell me that I should go with you to England?" Her words sounded harder than she had intended them to, but she was frustrated that she did not understand he gods as well as Ragnar.

She saw him widening his eyes, probably also a little surprised over her sudden irritated appeal. She sighed out.

"Well," Ragnar rasped, "I certainly believe so. But what do you think, love?"

A knock was heard on the door, startling both Frida and Ragnar, earning them to shoot their eyes in its direction.

"We'll be out in a moment!" Ragnar growled at the door, straightening himself up on the bed.

Frida kept staring at the door, as her thoughts battered around inside of her head. She did not quite know how to put her words, how to form them into the exact meaning that she wanted. "Ragnar, wait…" she started, reaching her hand up to grab his as he was making his way out of the bed.

His eyes were tired, dark circles blossoming beneath his blue crystals. Her heartbeat was steady, her blood calm all of a sudden.

"You know," she breathed, "that we can choose not to follow the path they have laid out before us, right?"

She watched him furrowing his brows at her, his eyes twitching slightly.

She continued: "You know that I do not have to go with you, if we choose not to listen to them."

His shoulders fell slightly as he took her words in. Frida stared at him in silence, waiting for whatever would be his answer. He rolled his head over his shoulders, closing his eyes hard.

"But, what if I need you?" Ragnar breathed almost inaudibly.

Frida felt a smile creeping over her lips, even while Ragnar frowned at her. She could feel his frustration beaming off his body like the moonlight reflecting itself in still waters during the night. She knew his pain.

"Then, listen to them. Accept your fate. And I will accept mine."

Ragnar rose to his feet, ripping his hand out of hers, before trotting angrily over to pick up his shirt from the floor.

"You don't know what you are saying," he seethed through his teeth as he pulled his shirt over his head in big movements, anger obvious in all his motion.

But as Frida lay there, she came to feel that she actually did know what she was saying.

"I will go with you anywhere, Ragnar," she whispered, feeling her blood pump fast in her veins, "Even if the raven falls."

Ragnar froze on his feet, his eyes falling over her, piercing her as he stood there. And with those words, the door was opened, ending their conversation with Ragnar's sons entering the room nosily.

While Ragnar spent midsummer's day surrounded by his family, smiling at the sons he had missed for so long, Frida could feel that her words still lingered on his skin, reminded him of future sorrows.

However, Frida tried to leave it behind her for now. She participated in many of the rituals that the village was to perform on the day of solstice. She gathered morning dew into small jars, she collected bog myrtle and birch, and she hung rods and brushwood over the entrance of the longhouse together with the other villagers.

And when the sun was finally setting, she stood hand in hand with Ragnar's children as they all admired the grand fire that had been lit on the beach as to celebrate the day of the long sun.

She could not help but to smile when Ragnar stepped forward to speak on behalf of the men that he had gone raiding with, telling the story of their journey to the English shores, finally recognizing his usual fired spirit. But her eyes widened when Ragnar turned to her and held out his hand for her to grab.

"Some of you may already know this, but, when we were away, Tjalfe and Røskva payed my wife a small visit."

Frida stumbled forward with big eyes as he pulled her closer to the fire, and she felt all the villagers eyes turn to her, a slow and silent mumbling spreading around them.

Where was he going with this?

"They wanted," Ragnar voiced proudly over the crowd of Northerners surrounding them, "to hear her sing."

Heat flushed Frida's face when she realized what Ragnar was up to, and she started pulling her hand back from his but without luck. Ragnar held on to her tightly.

"If the gods are so interested in hearing our queen's singing that they sent Tjalfe and his sister, why not let her sing here, now, as we know they are surely listening?"

Frida felt her heart drumming heavily inside her chest as Ragnar curled his lips smugly at her before stepping back into the circle of people, and she heard the villagers cheer for her. She could not help but to laugh out nervously as they urged her to perform in front of them and the gods, and she twitched her hands as she stood there, feeling the warmth of the fire calming her slowly.

She noticed Floki eyeing her intently, his lips formed into a straight line as he glared at her with narrowed eyes between the other villagers. And Frida kept her eyes locked with his as she opened her mouth and started singing, the tones of her voice echoing in circles over the beach:

"We love our land,  
but at midsummer the most,  
when every cloud over the field sends benisons,  
when there great flowers are,  
and when the cattle in the bucket  
gives abundant gifts to busy hands;  
when we're not plowing and harrowing and rolling  
when the cow in the clover fields is munching:  
then, our youth takes up the dancing  
as the foal and the lamb romp about in the meadow."

"We love our land,  
and with the sword in hand  
every foreign enemy shall prepare for our coming  
but against the spirit of strive  
over field, under the sands of the beach  
we will lit the fire on our fathers' mounds:  
every village has their witch, and every parish their trolls,  
with bonfires we hold them away,  
we will that peace prevails,  
it is gained where hearts never turn cold in uncertainty."

"We love our land,  
and we greet the king  
who chose the right princess,  
in his longhouse  
every woman and every man can  
find an example of life and love!  
Let time age, let colors fade,  
a memory we will draw in our hearts:  
from the North rich in legends  
a glory radiates over the world  
It is the reflecting glare of the enchanting meadows of the wondrous land!"

* * *

 **If you're interested in listening to the song, go to You Tube: ***** **/watch?v=LHTdo1Q6eWU**

 **It is an old Danish folk song, which is typically sung on the day of midsummer (solstice). We call this day "Sankt Hans" (Saint Hans - which is actually a name for John the Baptist, I don't know why we felt the need to translate his name like that), but it is a holiday that goes all the way back to before the Vikings, even. This was a very sacred and celebrated day in the Viking Age, where people thought both water and herbs to have extraordinary healing powers. But other kinds of magic was also thought to be amplified during this day, and to prevent trolls and witches to come to your village, you made big bonfires and waved around with sticks on fire over the fields.**

 **When we became Christians, we also turned the day into a celebration of the birth of John the Baptist. But the Church actually wanted to banish the holiday, because it was "superstitious and Pagan," however, they were obviously not prevalent ;)**

 **Nowadays, we gather around a big fire and "burn the witch." The witch is a sort of scarecrow that we put in the middle of the fire, and we fill her with whistlers to make it sound like she is screaming (we actually call whistlers "witch-screams"). When burning the witch, ther is a saying that she flies to Blokbjerg, which is a mountain located in the German forest Harzen.  
** **We usually sing, drink and make twistbreads over the fire. It is always a nice time where the family gets together, and we love this holiday very much in Denmark, probably because it is a summer tradition where the weather (usually) is good.**


	44. Chapter 44

**HELLO MY DEAR READERS! I am very sorry for not having updated for ages, but I've been very busy with doing exams and doing Christmas and everything. BUT! Here is the new chapter :)**

 **I hope you all had a wonderful holiday: Merry Christmas to you all (and if you don't celebrate, then, merry holidays at least), and Happy New Year!  
** **In Danish we say "God Jul" (merry xmas) and "Godt Nytår" (happy new year).  
Sometimes, we also say "God jul og godt Tuborg," which basically means "Merry Christmas and a good Tuborg" (Tuborg is the name of a Danish brand of beer that launches a Chritmas beer the first friday of November. This is called J-Dag in Denmark and is celebrated by getting super drunk in Christmas beer). It has a very nice commercial if you're interested: You Tube *** /watch?v=bMTkGzy6-yo**

 **To all the Swedes out there: I did a lot of research to find out whether Eysteinn was king of either Götaland or Svealand, but it was very difficult to figure out. I therefore took the liberty to name him king of Götaland, because this region was very wealthy and held the biggest trading cities in Sweden during the Viking Age. However, I do realize that Uppsala is placed in Svealand, and that he ruled in this particular area, but I could not seem to figure out exactly where the regions were divided at this time. So, please forgive me if I have made some geographical mistakes.**

 **And just so you know: I'm one of those weird Danes that LOVES Sweden, despite the strange competition that is so deeply carved into the minds of both Danes and Swedes because of our continuous fighting throughout history ;)**

 **SKÅL and enjoy!**

* * *

When the doors to the long-hall were opened, Frida rose from her throne in a clumsy but quick movement.

She was nervous, and she could feel her heart pumping hastily in her chest, while the child in her belly stirred lively around inside of her, feeling the anticipation that lay thick in the air just like everyone else in the village.

Their guests had arrived.

Not only were they very important guests coming from the Northern lands, Frida had understood this much, they were in Kattegat to establish an alliance between the two kingdoms. Ragnar's and Eysteinn's.

Eysteinn Beli was the king of Götaland, an important and very wealthy kingdom in the lands North of Kattegat. Ragnar had send for him, invited him to come to his land in order to establish a stronger alliance between the two kingdoms, and thereby creating a sturdier force that they were to bring to the English shores in the next year's raiding.

Frida did not know much about the Geats and their king, but she had heard mumbling between the villagers saying that they were much feared in the lands to the East, as their strength and forcefulness compared to no other race of men in this world.

And as the Geats entered the long-hall, she felt her throat constricting slightly and the hairs in her neck standing while her eyes intriguingly scrutinized the Northern men that entered.

Frida immediately recognized the man walking in front to be their king. He was very tall, almost taller than Floki, and his posture was very sturdy, reminding her of a statue of a god, raised above everyone else, looking down upon the men that surrounded him.

Frida let out a little sigh when his eyes fell upon Ragnar beside her and a smile quickly grew over his lips. She saw Ragnar rising to his feet before throwing his arms out to the sides, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips.

"Eysteinn Beli!" he voiced over the crowd of people that filled the long-hall, "Welcome to Kattegat!"

The Geat king, Eysteinn, took a couple of steps forward while he raised his arms too, a deep and healthy laugh sounding through his large light brown beard before he said: "Regnar Loðbrók! The farmer who made himself king! I was very pleased when your messenger came forth to my throne. The tales of your deeds have long reached my ear, and I must say I am very curious to get to know the man who discovered the Western lands."

Frida listened carefully to his words, and she quickly realized that his language sounded quite different than the one they spoke here in Kattegat. It was Norse, but the rhythm was different, faster. And the way he said Ragnar's name almost sounded as if he was out of breath, the sounds whistling over his lips in the blink of an eye.

When his glare soon fell to Frida, she felt herself blushing, and she quickly forced out a smile.

Eysteinn was a handsome man. He was not as broad as the typical villager here in Kattegat, and his eyes were big and round, his light blue irises very noticeable in contrast with his white blonde hair that hung loosely down over his shoulders. His stare was sharp and calculating, while his lips were full and curled upwards, causing it to look like he was smiling all the time.

He was dressed in a beautiful armor made out of iron. Over his chest there was carved the image of what Frida recognized to be a cow, and over his left shoulder a striking deep blue rope hung down.

It was very obvious from his appearance that he was a king.

When Frida felt Ragnar laying his hand upon hers, she was startled, and she quickly ripped her eyes from Eysteinn's face and turned to look at her husband. Ragnar smiled smugly at her.

"Please," Ragnar breathed, "You and I are equal in fame, Eysteinn Beli, king of Götaland, for I have too heard many tales of your successful journeys to the Eastern lands."

Frida noticed how both men exchanged looks, before she felt Ragnar's eyes piercing at her face. "Meet my dear wife Frida and my youngest child, Ragnhildir."

Frida stood from her chair with Ragnhildir on her hip, and she reached out her hand for king Eysteinn to take, feeling a nervous shiver run down her spine when their hands touched and their eyes met.

"Pleased to meet you, king Eysteinn," she voiced in a slow breath, "I hope you and my husband will commence a healthy agreement between our kingdoms, as I know he surely wishes for it."

She turned her head to see Ragnar smiling out of the corner of her eye.

Eysteinn bowed his head at her. "I am honored to finally lay my eyes upon the queen of whom it is known is descendant from the wolves."

Frida's eyes widened when she realized what the Götaland king had just said, and she exhaled deeply as Eysteinn's stare fell to the floor on her right, where Freke lay like always.

Frida opened her mouth to object to his words, but she found herself short of them, no sound leaving her lips as she stood there.

Luckily, Ragnar was quick to speak, and he announced that a feast had been prepared for Eysteinn and his men. And before she knew it, they were all placed at the longtable where abundant plates of food were aligned along the center, excited chatter and laughter sounding loudly between the Geats and the Danes around it.

Frida did not talk much, but she listened carefully to the conversations that were scattered around the table.

"Really?" she heard Ragnar voice, and she curiously turned her ear towards him and Eysteinn who sat with their heads close to each other, both of their faces already ruddy from the heavy amounts of honey mead they had consumed.

"Yes," she heard Eysteinn murmur from his beard, "A ship will bring her here tomorrow at noon. She is my only child, so you can understand my precaution of not bringing her here before I knew that…"

His eyes lingered on Ragnar's face as he weighed the words in his head.

Ragnar chuckled in a quick breath, saying: "That I did not wish to kill you?"

The Götaland king broke into a heartwarming laugh that filled the entire room. "Yes, my dear friend. Ingeborg is my dearest possession."

Frida took a small sip from her horn as she let her eyes travel around the room, still listening carefully to the kings' conversation.

"Worry not," Ragnar assured him, "I do not think badly about men who take precautions. It shows that they do not rush into action. Too many men have died from acting before thinking, aroused by their own idea of power. But power is nothing without knowledge."

"Hear, hear!" Eysteinn concurred while raising his drinking horn. "I always knew that the son of Sigurd would be wiser than most men, especially as he was given the name Loðbrók."

Frida furrowed her brows as their conversation progressed. She wished that she had heard everything of it.

Who was this Ingeborg that would come tomorrow? Who was this Sigurd? Ragnar's father?

Her eyes flew back to the two kings when Ragnar said: "I will let Bjørn know that she is coming. He might not be… what can I say, too delighted with the idea of a planned marriage, but…"

The sound of Rollo's roaring laughter drowned out the rest of Ragnar's sentence, and Frida shot a couple of hard eyes at him. He looked to be telling a story from their last raid in England.

Frida sighed out and turned her eyes back to the two kings at her side, exerting herself fully to hear their every word. She needed to know what marriage they were talking about.

Was Bjørn to get married?

However, to Frida's dismay, the subject of their conversation had changed to something quite different.

To her.

"Queen Frida, I have heard stories about you," Eysteinn smiled before taking a bite of a chicken leg, his round eyes shining at her, "and your wolves."

His eyes fell to Freke who was placed at the floor just behind her, with Ragnhildir curled up in his fur, sleeping soundly.

Frida felt her blood rushing through her veins, and she nervously looked at Ragnar. His lips were curled into a smug smile, and he was looking at her through the corner of his eyes, one of his hands gently running through his beard. He blinked at her before reaching over to grab a piece of flatbread from his plate.

She cleared her throat and tried to look indifferent, smiling innocently at the Götaland king.

"I must admit I am surprised to hear this. What stories, if I may ask?" she smiled in a thin voice, as she shakenly reached for her drinking horn to down some of its relaxing contents.

She did not know why this man still made her nervous.

She watched Eysteinn downing the rest of his drinking horn, before waving his hand for one of the servants to fill it once more.

"There is a story that tells of a woman who was not of these lands, who came wandering through the woods one night and into the village of a Danish king…"

His eyes rested upon Ragnar who sat staring into his horn, smiling.

"And when he saw her natural beauty and the powerful wolf she had brought with her, he knew that she was meant to be his queen. And so he married her on the spot, well-knowing that the All-father had sent her to him."

Because she did not know what to say, Frida took a long and healthy sip of her mead. Her eyes were big and her heart beating. Even as she knew the story was not about her, she could not help but to recognize some of it.

It did sound extraordinarily alike the things she had experienced after coming to Kattegat.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before even a sound escaped her lips, Ragnar's voice sounded between the three of them. "It is true that our gods are very interested in this woman. They have sent her many gifts."

Frida watched as Ragnar reached over to lift the golden necklace that was hanging over her chest, showing it to king Eysteinn. The Geat leaned in to get a better look at it, its pinkish rose color strange and mysteriously godlike in Ragnar's rough hands.

"By Odin's great beard," Eysteinn sighed out as he took in the sight of the fine jewelry.

Frida felt her cheeks burn, and she caught Ragnar's eyes, tilting her head at him.

Why did he not just tell Eysteinn the truth?

She narrowed her eyes a little at him, but he merely curled his lips at her, before he turned his face back to Eysteinn.

"It seems like farmers are people too, right my friend?" Eysteinn laughed, causing Ragnar to spill some of the liquids from his drinking horn as he burst out in an honest and hearty laughter.

Frida looked at the two men with strange eyes before she shook her head. Even though the sun had just downed behind the Western mountains, the two men beside her were already so drunk that they spoke gibberish.

She sighed out. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 **Any Swedes out there getting the joke here at the end? :D  
Anyways, the proverb "Farmers are people too" is Swedish, and it means, as is obvious, that farmers are people and should therefore be treated decently. I thought it very appropriate here in this context. In Swedish it is: "Bönder är också folk"**

 **So, what did you think? Did you miss me as much as I missed you?**


	45. Chapter 45

**I hope you enjoy my little turn on history. As I have already lined out, I am not following the plotline of the series, as I am trying to go for a more historical correct version of Ragnar's Saga - as told in Ragnar Lodbrok's Saga (with my own personal characters, of course). :)**

 **Enjoy and skål!**

* * *

The morning was long and calm.

Not many sounds were heard in the wake of Kattegat as the sun crawled further and further up over the blossoming orange-pink sky, a deep blue soon stretching over the dry thatched roofs of the village, marking the beginning of another day. A drunken slumber had snaked its way in between the graveled streets and numbed the majority of the villagers, it had come with the dense white mist that had clouded out from the trees when the sun finally yawned its way up in the East.

Frida had watched it all unfold before her eyes. For she had been awakened by Ragnhildir even when the dark blackness of the night still had not left the corners of the bedroom, and she had chosen to let her husband sleep, bringing her daughter out on the roofed Eastern terrace of the longhouse to watch the sun rise with her.

When the servants had left their beds to work over the cooking fire, as preparing breakfast when having royal visitors was more time demanding than usual, Frida had been served a flatbread with a thick coating of honey which she was currently nibbling on absentmindedly, her thoughts circulating vividly around the conversations from yesterday's feast.

The wild birds were chirping lively from the tree tops surrounding the village while Ragnhildir sat in Frida's lap, excitingly investigating the empty bowl that had contained her breakfast apple porridge.

These days, everything Ragnhildir touched had to go in her mouth, so of course her cheeks were already smothered in the sticky soft porridge.

But Frida sat carelessly in her chair, her eyes wandering over the beautiful scenery in front of her, with the black trees leading to the white silver mountains, deep blue stretching above them, the warmth of the sun slowly rolling towards them, swallowing the white cool mist of the night.

She wondered whether the sun and the moon were really the children of the giantess Narfe like people here believed.

A long time ago, when Frida had not yet learned the Norse tongue, Athelstan had told her the stories of how Narfe, a giantess of Udgård, birthed a beautiful daughter, whose skin was dark as coal, and a handsome son, whose skin was white as snow. She called her dark ardent daughter Nat, and her white shiny son Dag*.

The gods were so impressed with the beauty of these two children, they gave the daughter a carriage that was to be pulled by the strong horse Rimfaxe, whose wet mane would leave behind dew and mist during the night. The gods too granted the son a carriage that was to be pulled by a horse with the name of Skinfaxe, whose brightness would illuminate the heavens and the earth.

However, one day a man in Midgård named Mundilfare got two of the most bright and resplendent children, a son he called Måne and a daughter he called Sol*.

The gods were angered that the man had named his children like he had, and so they punished him by forcing his children to ride the carriages with the giants Nat and Dag.

Sol and Dag's carriage is chased by the wolf Skoll, while Måne and Nat's carriage is chased by the wolf Hate, and therefore the sun and the moon travels so fast across the sky.

A cold shiver ran down Frida's spine as she recalled the words of Athelstan from their conversation long ago, as he had voiced in a serious tone: "It is said, according to the old sagas, that one day the wolf Skoll will swallow the sun, and all things will turn black."

Frida had looked at him with narrowed eyes and asked: "But what happens when everything turns black?"

Athelstan had looked at her with shining eyes, something unfamiliar to his air glooming from behind his greyish irises, as he had whispered the words: "Ragnarok."

Frida found herself to be sitting with her eyes closed shut, and she opened them eagerly while sucking in a quick breath, shaking her head as to push the memories out of her head.

Ragnarok. The end of the world as we know it.

Deep in her thoughts, Frida out of the sudden noticed some movement the her left out of the corner of her eye, and she turned her head to see a cloaked figure stalking away from the longhouse.

She gasped loudly, surprised by the sudden knowledge of not being alone.

As the small sound of her gasp sounded over the otherwise silent morning, the dark figure stopped, and Frida looked at it with widened eyes, well aware that she was not supposed to have seen this person. Thoughtlessly, she hugged Ragnhildir tighter, but she kept still in her chair, not wanting to cause any panic by moving.

Her eyes scanned the head of the cloaked figure, trying to recognize some features that would deem her to realize who this person was, but it was yet a bit too dark and so shadows rendered the man safety for now.

His shoulders were so broad, it could not be a woman. Even a Norse woman did not have shoulders as broad as those.

Frida watched him crouch down, and from the positioning of his hands, she quickly recognized him to be one of Ragnar's sons.

They all had the same way of moving, calculatingly, like bests of prey already knowing how to place the next attack. She rose to her feet, her brows furrowing at the man in front of her.

"Bjørn?"

She felt Ragnhildir look at the dark figure too, and she dropped the clay bowl from her hands, which ripped apart as it hit the wooden floor below, a clear breaking noise cutting through the silent air of the morning.

Frida watched the head of the cloaked figure fall between his shoulders, and she knew that she had guessed correctly. Bjørn was stalking away from Kattegat and into the woods.

"Where are you going?" Frida asked in a small voice, as she lifted Ragnhildir to sit more comfortably on her hip.

Her thoughts immediately shot back to the conversation she had intentionally overheard last night between Ragnar and king Eysteinn. And what they were planning. A dry taste quickly spread over her tongue.

Had he perhaps overheard even more than her?

She had heard something about a marriage, but she had not heard all of it.

Were Bjørn to have an arranged marriage?

Frida tried to sink, but she found her mouth to be completely dry, her breath rough in her throat as she stood there breathing, waiting. She saw Bjørn rising to his feet, moving silently towards her with lowered shoulders.

He crouched down slightly when he reached the edge of the terrace, and he looked up at her with piercing ice blue eyes, a wild light shining from them as he said: "I know that you probably have had no say in what my father has planned for me. But…"

Frida watched him as a pained expression washed over his face, and he turned his eyes away from her for a short moment, his fists clenching as he blew out an angered breath. "I intent to leave Kattegat for a while… Find my own way…"

His eyes shot back to Frida's, piercing hers more than ever, as he continued in rushed words: "I need this. This is important. I cannot…"

Bjørn slowly started to walk backwards as his words died out. Frida felt her heart starting to drum in her chest, as she reached her arm up as if she could reach out to catch him, even as he was already several feet away from the terrace.

She desperately searched for the right words to say in her head, but even as she opened her lips, she found herself lost for them, until finally she managed: "He needs you… Ragnar, he needs his sons Bjørn."

She saw how Bjørn's face twisted painfully as she spoke her words, but even as they hurt his heart, he continued his path further and further away from the longhouse.

Frida felt like she had too been numbed by the mist that had coated most of the village now, frozen in her place as she watched Bjørn disappear into the woods. She did not know what she was going to do.

Was she to let Bjørn leave, and act as if she had not seen him? Or should she let Ragnar know immediately?

She knew that arranged marriages were not very common in the Norse culture, but they did occur between royal families. So Bjørn was probably to wed a daughter of the Swedish king Eysteinn, this much she could gather.

Frida furrowed her brows as her thoughts raced, and she placed her thumb by her lip, biting the nail slightly. She looked down at Ragnhildir who was staring up at her with intense moss green eyes, as if telling her what to do. She looked excited, yet bewildered, as if she had understood everything that had just been said.

Frida broke into a run, not being able to do anything else.

She knew that Ragnar would be filled with the deepest and unforgiving anger if he ever found out that Frida had not told him his son was leaving Kattegat. And she too did not want Bjørn to leave.

Whether it was from not wanting to wed someone chosen for him, or it was for wedding her and going to another land, Frida wished that Bjørn would just not leave Kattegat.

There was something about the idea of it that unnerved her. She felt like he was supposed to be here, always.

When Frida rushed through the door to their bedroom, Ragnar was already dressing himself. His head shot to her as she entered the room, and a deep line of concern immediately carved his forehead when he saw her expression.

"He left," she managed to whisper between winded breaths.

* * *

 **Nat: "night." Dag: "day."**  
 **Måne: "moon." Sol: "sun." ... How alike are these words, right? The Vikings really messed up the English language back then. Woops. Haha :D**

 **Please leave a review telling me what you think :) They help me keep going!**


	46. Chapter 46

**I got an awesome review, and decided to do another chapter today already. So thanks to** LauRa-ReaDinG-XoX **for the nice comment!**

 **Anyways, I want for those of you interested in listening to some typical Danish music IN ENGLISH, please listen to the man that a lot of Danes grew up with listening to: Kim Larsen - This is my life. You Tube *** /watch?v=mPbKRH7OuaM The comment section reveals that a lot of Swedes also enjoy this song, so I thought it appropriate :)**

 **Enjoy and skål!**

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Frida could already hear the beatings of the drums down from the harbor that were to inform the whole village that yet another royal guest was to disembark in Kattegat.

Even though she had been out of her bed from even before the sun had risen over the Eastern horizon, the forenoon had flown by with lightning speed. The calm and serenity she had felt as the morning dew disappeared into the air because of the warming rays of the rising morning sun were no longer soothing through her body.

Now, hurt and determinatinon pumped alongside her flowing blood as she rose to her feet, her eyes falling to her husband that was placed next to her.

And she exhaled a small puff of air as she saw him sitting there on his throne, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes small and narrowed, deep concentration obvious from his expression.

Bjørn's leaving had surprised Ragnar even more than it had surprised her.

Because Ragnar had felt deep in his heart that Bjørn would actually do this for him. Not only for him as a father and for his legacy, but for the village of Kattegat and for all of the surrounding kingdoms of this land as well.

 _There are many things you can ask your children_ , Frida thought to herself as she reached out her hand for Ragnar to take, _but asking them to marry a foreign woman, even if it is for the greater good of their family, is too much_.

Frida knew that.

However, the circumstances were as bad as they could ever be. For currently, the ship that carried the daughter of the Götaland king was closing in on Kattegat's harboring bridge, here to familiarize herself with her father's strengthening alliance and her, potential, future husband.

And Ragnar thought Bjørn's choice of leaving in the dark of night an embarrassment to him as a king. For this slightly complicated the agreement he had made with king Eysteinn.

Frida had persuaded Ragnar to tell Eysteinn the immediate truth. He had rambled on in some delirious state of mind, thinking about telling Eysteinn and his daughter that there had been an accident during the night with Bjørn, reasoning his son's absence with a lie.

And when Floki had arrived, as called for by Ragnar in guidance, he had concurred: "It is always good politics to tell the truth… Unless, of course, you are a very skilled liar."

His eyes had shot to Frida's after the last word left his lips, and he had smiled manically at her, his eyes shining from behind the black circles around them.

But Frida had whispered to her husband, as hoping to whisper to his heart, that lies would always be exposed. Sooner or later.

Athelstan had suddenly stepped forth into their small circle around the fire in the midst of the long-hall, and he had put his hand on Ragnar's arm, speaking words that Frida felt like she had heard before somewhere: "The lip of truth shall be established forever, but a lying tongue is but for a moment."

And Ragnar had nodded, earning Floki to hiss out and turn away, but causing Frida to sigh out in relief, her heart suddenly pumping with new life and the child in her belly suddenly kicking vividly.

King Eysteinn reacted strangely enough not as strongly as Frida, and Ragnar even so, would have expected. Eysteinn had leaned back in his chair, letting it rest only on the two back legs, his feet on the table in front of him, while he had smiled in a brief sigh, simply asking: "Has he ever been on his own?"

Frida had looked at the Götaland king with big eyes, feeling a small tint of hope spire in the pits of her stomach.

"Not surviving alone, no," Ragnar had breathed from the other side of the table, his eyes piercing at the face of the Götaland king in front of him.

Eysteinn had straightened his chair, folding his hands over the table, and slowly lifted his eyes to meet with Frida's. She had felt her cheeks turning pink from his gaze, his clear blue eyes sparkling at her with a strange light, and she awkwardly shifted her stance, turning her eyes away from him and down to Ragnhildir in her arms.

"Bjørn will come around, I reckon," the Geat had voiced, "and if it turns out he doesn't, well then, our forces might still go together. I certainly wish to see the lands to the West, even if our families are not tied by blood."

Frida could not help but to feel her heart softening a little. This Götaland king had a large heart, she could tell by the sincerity in his air.

Whether he was willing to see past the events of the morning because of the earnings he eventually was to gain from his alliance with Ragnar, or if it was from a genuine and sincere hope of their alliance and friendship growing stronger was unimportant to Frida.

Honestly.

She was merely glad that Eysteinn had not taken offence to Bjørn's departure and seen it as a humiliation to him as a king, like Ragnar had feared would have happened.

But even though their situation had actually turned out much better than anyone would have expected, Ragnar still sat with a hard expression on his face, his eyes on the rugged floor below him, his shoulders down.

Frida still had her hand reached out for him to take as to go together to welcome the Götaland princess that was embarking any moment now, and she exhaled a small breath, her heart sinking a bit in her chest.

"He will return, Ragnar," she said in a small voice, taking a small step towards him.

He looked older than usual as he sat there in his chair, all sunken in and a face beaming with fatherly concern, and Frida furrowed her brows as she imagined the things he must be thinking.

"Don't blame yourself, my love, please. Come."

Ragnar's eyes finally rose to Frida's, and she sighed out in relief when she saw them softening from the sound of her voice, and he rose to his feet too, reaching his hand up to cup Ragnhildir's little head that peeped out from the wrappings Helga had done over Frida's chest as to carry her more easily. Ragnar planted a small kiss on his daughter's head before he bent over to place another one on Frida's lips, finally taking her hand.

They hurried down to the harbor, just in time to welcome the Götaland princess, Ingeborg, to their kingdom.

And by Freyja's hair was she one of the most beautiful women Frida had ever laid her eyes upon. Her skin was not as light as the villagers' here in Kattegat, it seemed to have been caressed more dearly by the sun, and yet, her hair was whiter than even Lagertha's, and her eyebrows too were of the color of snow. Even the lashes that surrounded her eyes were snow white, reminding Frida of the tales of the most beautiful god of them all, Balder, son of Odin and Frigg. Her eyes were like two pearls made from the bluest summer skies, encircled by a black ring that made her glare intense and exhilarating. She looked like a beautiful white dove, only with the sharp eyes of an eagle.

Ingeborg was dressed in a long deep blue dress that was decorated heavily across the chest with white pearls and silver threading, and she moved elegantly down from her ships to the bridge, where she was greeted shortly by her father, the two of them embracing each other in a loving hug. The smile that spread over her face from seeing her father again revealed a set of perfect white teeth that were as straight as pearls on a line, and Frida could not help but to stare at the Götaland princess, as she made her way over the bridge.

She could not help but to think that if Bjørn would have stayed for just a bit longer, he might not have wanted to go anywhere.

Frida clutched her fingers around the small leather sack she had in her hand, which held a gift from Ragnar and her to the newly arrived guest. The gift was a stunning golden necklace that had been brought from England, with big red crystals in it. Rubies, Athelstan had explained.

"Welcome, Götaland princess Ingeborg, to Kattegat. I hope your journey was not unpleasant," Ragnar voiced in a smug smile, reaching his hand out take hers.

When Ingeborg laid her hand into his, Ragnar bent a bit down and raised her hand to place a quick kiss on the back of her hand, before straightening himself, still a smug smile over his lips. "As is the custom in England," he smiled at her and her father.

Frida felt her throat constricting sharply, and she let out a small gush of air.

She watched as the cheeks of the Götaland princess reddened heavily, breathing out a little giggle before nodding with her head, accepting his welcome.

"Thor was very gentle with us, and he brought us a safe and quick passage. But the journey is not far, as you know," Ingeborg spoke with a bright smile on her lips, while she let her eyes wander around over the harbor.

Her tongue was Norse, but too with the same rushing of the words like her father, the curling of the tongue much more loud and quick than that of the language spoken here in Kattegat.

"Indeed, our kingdoms are not far apart," Eysteinn spoke, "but you must still be drained, my child. Come, let king Ragnar Loðbrók take you to his longhouse, so you can rest your feet."

Ingeborg waved a hand at her father, giggling: "Honestly father, I am not tired even the slightest. I am much more interested in seeing their training pits and weapons. All of the stories of you, king Ragnar, your sons, and your brother even, all tell of how great warriors you are. I am much interested in seeing how you prepare for the raids. Are you still strengthening your walls?"

Ragnar nodded his head, his eyes rolling in his head dramatically before a smug smile crept over his lips. "Naturally," he smiled smugly, narrowing his eyes at Ingeborg, "I will escort you there tomorrow, when our warriors begin at noon."

His eyes turned to Frida, and he curled his lips at her before bending over and placing a kiss on her cheek. Frida felt a strange thick sensation in her throat, and she all of a sudden had difficulties in remembering how to breathe normally, and she nervously started to turn towards the village.

Ragnar was quick to scoop his arm around her, nudging her shoulder slightly as he walked with her back towards the longhouse. Frida did not look at him, but kept her eyes at the cottages in front of them.

"I am glad I listened to you, my love," Ragnar voiced beside her and nudged her shoulder once more, "My clever, clever wife."

He pulled her in for a small hug, and Frida let him hug her, but she did not respond to his motion. She still felt sort of weird after the small greeting with Ingeborg, but she did not exactly know why.

"I hope Freke returns from his hunt soon," she stated in a flat voice, awkwardly changing the subject, "I'm getting the feeling he might have been hurt or something."

Frida sensed how Ragnar's muscles tensed for a quick moment, before he hugged her close again. "And here I am, hoping that he is following Bjørn. They will both return," he breathed, "I have prayed for their safe return."

* * *

 **Thoughts?**


	47. Chapter 47

**First, I just have to say: OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH!  
I LOVE the reviews that you guys gave me in the last chapter, it really helps my motivation for writing but also makes it so much more delightful to do so. Oh, and I know that I already stopped doing shout-outs, because they just take up so much space, but since I did one in the last chapter, here goes:**

LauRa-ReaDinG-XoX **– Of course, you leave the best reviews that really motivate one as a writer to continue :) You are awesome!**  
Silently Tearful **– You have been here with me since the beginning, doing reviews and waiting for me to write more. Thanks for the great ideas and inputs you have come to me with, it helps me A LOT to write better! Brofist from Denmark! (I sound like Pewdiepie now, any readers out there who enjoy this Swede too?)**  
MissReader09 **– You also make the best reviews, because you ask questions that help me figure out what I am missing in my story. And you have done them for a while. So big hugs!**  
BlueEyedPisces **– By Freyja's hair. You, my friend, are wonderful. I just woke up to several reviews that you did while I slept peacefully, and I must say: I LOOOOVE THEM! I love how you comment on every chapter, letting me know how you follow it. This is really what I had hoped everyone would do, but one cannot be that lucky. I just feel lucky that I have you :D haha**

 **If anyone feels left out, please let me know. I love every single one of you guys who has made a review, followed or favorited. It means the world to me, and it makes it easier and more pleasurable to do continue with this story. And now, I will shut up. Skål!**

* * *

Frida's eyes were stuck on the vivid flames of the fire as she sat on the bench that surrounded the fireplace of the long-hall. She was absentmindedly feeding Ragnhildir some carrot porridge, while the small cutting sounds of the boys carving themselves new wooden daggers resonated through the long-hall, creating a small beat that Frida's thoughts seemed to dance around, while she stared into the orange flames in front of her. She did not hear Helga's voice calling for her the first couple of times, but when a hand was put on her arm, Frida made a little jump in her seat, startled.

"Are you okay, Frida? You seem distant," Helga chirped in her small voice, eyes wide in concern.

Frida shook her head lightly before she turned her face to send a reassuring smile to her. "Yeah yeah, I'm fine, I'm just… worried. About Bjørn and Freke," she answered in a small smile, her eyes quickly falling to Ragnhildir and Angrboða that were sitting on the floor in front of her, playing together.

She could feel her friend's eyes clinging to her.

Helga could probably sense that this was not the only reason for her thoughtful presence, but Frida prayed that she would not ask her more questions. For she did not wish to admit that her thoughts were actually not centered that much on Bjørn as it were, they repeatedly shot back to the face of the newly arrived Götaland princess and how Ragnar was currently giving her a personal tour around the village.

Frida bit her lip when she saw Helga smiling at her, and she quickly sent a smile back, a look of understanding being shared between the two women over the fire.

Helga suddenly rose to her feet, and she looked around to wave at all of the children that were scattered around in the long-hall, calling for them to gather around the fire: "I feel like singing. Won't you sing with me, Ubbe, Hvitserk… And bring Sigurd with you, please boys," she chirped lovingly, earning for Angrboða to clap her hands excitedly when hearing the happy cling in her mother's voice.

Frida let out a little sigh of relief as the air around the fire changed with all the innocent faces quickly gathering around it. Frida pulled up Ragnhildir to sit in her lap, and she felt Ivar taking her hand from his little wagon next to her.

"Which one should we sing today?" Helga asked, looking around at all the children around the fire. "Should we sing the one with the three trolls in the Norwegian kingdom? Or the one with the crow and the hunter?"

Frida felt Ivar pressing her hand, and she turned her face to see him looking at her intently behind his shaggy blonde hair.

"What do you say, Ivar?" Frida asked, nudging his hand back.

"The one with the witch and the toad!"

Helga bowed her head dramatically, her voice like small beautiful bells, smiling: "You better sing a long, then Ivar, that's a tricky one." And she blinked her eye at him, causing him to smile widely.

Helga was always so sweet, Frida swore she had not met another being as sweet and caring as her. You always felt welcome around her. Her entire person beamed with a light that was both inviting and soft at the same time.

Helga bent her head down as to make better eye contact with the children before her light voice filled the long-hall, most of the children singing along to one of the strangest children's song Frida had ever heard in her life:

"The mother witch let a toad  
roast like a crucian carp  
Rimme-rum, rimme-rum,  
Smoke in circles, um um um!"

"Ture-lure laughed from luck,  
He got but the loaf of the rump.  
Rimme-rum, rimme-rum,  
Smoke in circles, um um um!"

"Trolle-rolle cried in ire,  
he only got the rotten guts.  
Rimme-rum, rimme-rum,  
Smoke in circles, um um um!"

"Tokke-nokke was too late,  
he got lamp's smoke at the feast*  
Rimme-rum, rimme-rum,  
Smoke in circles, um um um!"

Helga's calming voice had Frida relaxing as she listened to the weird song, and how the throaty and so very Norse sounds at the end of every verse echoed beautifully around the room. She had never truly understood this little tale because most of it sounded as mere gibberish to her, but she liked the edginess of it.

It reminded her of the forests of these lands. The mystique of the Danish moors, and all the creatures that live in it.

And she could not help but to grin as she watched how the children smiled and sang along, dramatically overdoing the goofy words in it, Ragnhildir twisting her body as she sat in Frida's lap as if to dance along to the rhythm of the many happy voices. Frida actually forgot for a quick moment everything that had happened the last two days.

But it did not last for long.

When Helga had started singing another song with the children, Frida had felt a little gush of air waving through her hair, and she had turned her eyes to have them immediately lock with Lagertha's, who was standing by the long-hall's entrance.

Frida inhaled a quick breath when she saw the redness under her eyes, the motherly concern so obvious in her facial features, and she immediately came to think about Bjørn once more. She felt something heavy sink inside her chest, and while quickly putting Ragnhildir down into Ivar's lap she excused herself from the singing circle quietly.

Frida felt her mouth drying as she slowly started walking towards Lagertha over by the door, and she forced out a smile that faded quickly when she finally reached her.

"Um…" Frida tried in a small voice, but when she did not find any other words, she gulped down loudly. She did not know how to proceed.

"Bedroom?" Lagertha croaked shyly, her usual strong and confident air thin all of a sudden, as if she had been broken somehow, or as if all of the air she had breathed had been pushed out of her body.

Frida nodded eagerly, and she quickly turned around to stalk past the thrones of the long-hall, blood rushing for her ears as her thoughts were ever changing in her mind, whirling around behind her skull like leaves during a stormy evening of the fall. She wondered why Lagertha had come, and yet, she would have found it strange if she had not. Frida had not talked to her, let alone even seen her since Bjørn left early this morning.

When Frida finally closed the door to her and Ragnar's bedroom, she turned around to look at the Norse woman that had placed herself awkwardly in the middle of the room. Even with all of her beauty, Lagertha looked very misplaced as she stood there, her stance crooked and weird, her eyes wandering aimlessly around.

Frida opened her mouth as to say something, but she could not find any words. Lagertha sent her a look that lasted for mere seconds but told her enough as to make her close her lips back together. She shook her head lightly, earning the blonde braids hanging from her hair to sway, as she said: "You don't have to say anything. I'm fine."

Lagertha's words hung thick in the air, and Frida could do nothing more but to stare at her. Her hair was beautifully braided like always, and her clothes were of some of the finest wool that was made in the village.

"Where's Ragnar?" Lagertha's thin voice sounded, earning Frida's eyes to fall the floor in front of her, feeling another stone sink in her chest.

The silence in the room was louder than ever.

She sucked in a calming breath, before she sighed out: "He's currently taking princess Ingeborg around the village."

Frida closed her eyes for a couple of seconds as the same feeling she had had yesterday when they had welcomed Ingeborg spread out over her heart.

"Oh, good," Lagertha voiced in relief.

Frida shot her eyes back to the woman in front of her, surprised by her answer. But Lagertha's eyes now seemed to shine brightly at her, and Frida sensed something changing in her air, something wild growing around her. She just could not place what it was.

"You should know," Lagertha began before she turned around to take a couple of steps closer to the fireplace, "I was aware of Bjørn… leaving the village this morning."

Frida felt her body stiffen as she took the words in, and she furrowed her brows heavily when Lagertha sighed out before her.

"I'm sorry, what?" Frida stuttered in confusion, and she took a couple of steps forward as to gaze deeper into the greyish irises of the beautiful Norse woman in front of her, trying to make sense of whether she was telling the whole truth. This just seemed so… off in some way.

Lagertha walked over to sit down at the table close to them, and Frida followed her closely, curious for whatever she had to tell.

Lagertha looked uncomfortable as Frida poured both of them a cup of ale. Lagertha downed a healthy sip of the liquid before she sighed out, her eyes turning sharply to shine into Frida's.

"I understand that Ragnar has not told you much about… our past," she said, her eyes falling to the contents of her cup before returning to Frida. "When Ragnar and I divorced, Bjørn and I went to the Southern part of Denmark. Shortly after our arrival in Hedeby, we were greeted by the earl of this town. The Jute, earl Sigvard."

Something dark travelled over Lagertha's face as she pronounced his name, but Frida disregarded it for the time being, too consumed with the story that followed.

"I do not wish to speak much about this… man, but I want you to know that he was a very controlling earl, and he had many difficulties accepting Bjørn into his longhouse, being another man's son. But Bjørn didn't exactly make it easy for him. As you might have learned by now, Bjørn is very conscious in his actions, and he takes great pride in being Ragnar's son. He would not let Sigvard have any fatherly restraints over him, and so he pronounced during a feast that he wished to leave the town for a while and go to the forest, to see how he would do on his own."

Lagertha bit her lip and swallowed hard, and Frida furrowed her brows as pity traveled forth over her skin, covering her slowly like the rosin of a fir, sticky and uncomfortable.

Lagertha exhaled something between a sigh and a chuckle, her lips curling slightly as she continued: "But of course Sigvard would hear nothing of it. As if the son of an earl is to rot in a pigsty in the mountains, he had said, ridiculing Bjørn in front of every villager present in the long-hall. A long story short, Bjørn never did get to live on his own like he wanted to. Even though his dream was always to return to his father, I always knew that he had not let this idea slip. I always felt it aerating inside of him. It was only a matter of time, I think."

The two women sat for a long moment in silence, both of them seeming to stare at the same darkened knot of the wooden table.

A question soon formed in Frida's mind, and she could not help but to let it slide from her lips. "Did he tell you why he chose to go now?"

Lagertha smiled sweetly before taking a small sip from her drinking horn. "I married earl Sigvard because I thought it best for my son. For his future. But I have never been so wrong in my entire life. And I think Bjørn saw that. Honestly, even as his mother, I cannot say whether Bjørn will consider marrying Ingeborg, even if it will make him king of Götaland one day. He has always been… very preoccupied with finding the things in life that makes him happy. And I wanted you to know that."

They held each other's gazes for what felt like an eternity, the air surrounding them thick with strange emotions. Frida felt both excited that Lagertha shared these things with her, as they made her see the situation from an entirely different perspective, yet, the new information that she had gathered from it was not exactly exhilarating.

It made her feel like she had never truly understood Bjørn, or Lagertha for that matter.

"I'm very happy that you told me these things, Lagertha, I really am," she finally voiced while her mind tried to process all of the new insights this conversation had brought her.

She found herself imagining what might have happened if Bjørn had not chosen to leave this morning, if he had met Ingeborg before departing.

"You think Ingeborg is a good woman?" she heard herself ask, immediately regretting having said it as she saw Lagertha's lips parting into a wide smile.

Lagertha took a small sip of her drinking horn, her eyes not leaving Frida's face. "Hm," she breathed as she put her horn down on the table, cocking her eyebrow slightly, "I surely hope so. But princesses can be, after my experience, rather shallow beings. But I don't know her enough to make any judgements. What do you think?"

Frida felt her cheeks burning from her questioning stare, and she quickly reached her drinking horn up to her lips as if to cover her face a little. She did not know how to answer.

She felt a wicked desire of shouting that Bjørn was not to tie himself to this woman, that she was in fact a shallow being, and that they should simply end every notion of wedding her and Bjørn. But she had no reason for saying these things.

She had no reason for not liking this woman. She did not know her at all. All she knew was that she and Ragnar had shared strange gazes, gazes that were only shared between a man and a woman who had some sort of deeper emotional connection… And now they were together somewhere in the village, only the gods knew where.

Frida shrugged her shoulders. "She is very beautiful, I guess," was the only thing she could come up with.

She heard Lagertha chuckling, and Frida could not help but to giggle a little herself when she saw Lagertha rolling her eyes. "All the Götaland women are unearthly beautiful! As a matter of fact, all the women from Sweden, be it the kingdoms of Götaland, Svealand or Norrland, are enviously beautiful in their appearance."

"Oh," Frida breathed with still pinkish cheeks, and she bit her lower lip thoughtlessly.

She found herself picturing a hilly land where only tall, blonde, and amazingly stunning women lived, and she felt a small sting of envy pricking in her stomach, despite it being filled with the calming bubbles of the ale they were drinking.

A small knock on the door had both of the women yanking their heads in its direction, equally jumping in their seats from the sudden noise.

"Yes?" Frida called, and the door was shortly opened, one of the servants peeping in her head with an apologizing look in her eyes.

"Freke has returned, my lady."

* * *

 ***To get lamp's smoke: Directly translated "at få lampe-røg" means "to receive lamp's smoke", but it is a Danish proverb that means you receive nothing. It is kinda like the English "it was a mare's nest," I think. If you want to listen to the song, I found a cute little music video of it on You Tube, performed by some Danish children: *** /** **watch?v=shRLG95Ajmk**

 **Oh, and I don't know if you are in any ways interested in this, but when doing my research on the relationship between Sweden and Denmark in the Viking Ages, I found that there is actually a saying in Danish that "Swedes are not real people." I haven't heard this saying being used ever, but I found a Danish rap song where they use it. So, if you want to listen to some Danish rap, go to You Tube *** /watch?v=ju5s8kXQJ2o (This song is not really that good, and it is kind of racist in many ways, for those of you who understands Danish, and I just want to say that I do NOT share their ideas of Danes being better than the other countries - the song was made for VM when we still had hopes of winning back in 2010). Most of their songs are ironic, anyways. I found it funny because they're singing: "If we don't win, we can still drink more alcohol than you." Like true Vikings ;) haha**


	48. Chapter 48

**A big ol' THANK YOU to those of you who review - those words are an inspiration, and they really help my motivation and desire of writing. All I want to say is "I er de bedste!" (Danish for "you guys are the best"). And, of course, big and warm thanks to everyone else who followed and/or favorited. Skål from Denmark.**

 **Enjoy the 48th chapter of Frida: :)**

* * *

"Where is he?" Frida breathed in a swift rush of words, her eyes scanning the long-hall as she in long strides made her way past the wooden thrones in of the longhouse.

But she did not look for long, because out of the corner of her eyes she quickly noticed a big dark pile in front of the door leading outside, and next to it an almost fully grown wolf, light silver eyes following her every movement.

Frida stopped in her tracks, her head turning sharply to inspect the strange pile next to Freke, and she gasped when she realized what it was.

Freke had brought a giant stag back from his hunt.

A marvelous sight it was indeed, Frida had to admit that as she walked closer to the wolf she had missed for several days now. The stag's fur was clotted dark from the blood that had escaped its killing wounds, but from its skull sprung two of the largest and most stunning antlers Frida had ever laid her eyes upon. They rose from the head of the animal like two giant oaks, rising into the air like deadly arrows, like as if they were majestic weapons created by the gods themselves.

However beautiful the creature was, Frida could not help but to feel a slight cringe of disappointment twisting in her belly that had the little baby in there move awkwardly around as she realized Freke had returned without news of Bjørn.

Frida bent down to embrace her missed friend, and she could not help but to giggle as a long and warm tongue slid up her cheek, telling her that he had missed her too.

"Good boy," Frida soothed as she turned her eyes to the stag next to him, "You did this all by yourself?"

The sudden deep humming of Rollo's voice behind her had Frida exhale a gush of air in surpirse, as he pointed: "No, it seems he ran into some big fellas out there."

Frida followed the direction of Rollo's finger only to find herself staring at a big wound in the side of the stag in front of her, three long gashes revealing from where all the now clotted blood had come from.

Frida glared at the gashes and felt her lips frowning, her brows furrowing when she realized that they were the marks of an animal, a predator, perfectly linear slashed through the skin covering the stag's ribs. And this animal was much bigger than Freke, as was obvious from the size of the cuts.

She felt a cold shiver run down her spine. "Another wolf?" she asked in a small voice, and she turned her eyes back to Freke, stroking his head while silently thanking the gods that he was still alive from the apparent encounter.

"Hm, no," Rollo hummed as he inspected the gashes closer, "Bjørn."*

Frida started on her feet, jumping a little as her thoughts immediately shot to Bjørn, and whether he might have run into these animals too out there in the dark Danish woods. However, the confused look that ran over Rollo's face as he saw her reaction to his words quickly made her realize that she had misinterpreted him.

"Oh," she muffled and let her eyes fall to the floor, her heart sinking a little inside her chest.

She felt Rollo's dark eyes on her as she stood there awkwardly staring down at her big belly, a quick and strange spreading through the small crowd that had gathered by the entrance of the long-hall.

"What is the meaning of all this?" Ragnar's surprised voice suddenly sounded, and Frida felt her body react to the sound of it even before she had realized it meant that he had returned.

Her eyes shot to the door, and while they immediately connected with the blue crystals of her husband, she could still sense out of the corner of her eyes another figure approaching behind him, silky blonde hair swaying from the gentle summer breeze outside, a perfect set of white teeth shining from tanned lips emerging from behind Ragnar's shoulder.

Frida opened her mouth as to speak, but she was so taken aback by everything that had happened the last couple of days, she found herself breathing lightly and her legs trembling.

"What is this?" Ragnar repeated, the tone of his voice firmer this time as he trotted noisily over the hind legs of the stag, his movements typically dramatic.

Frida felt the child inside of her belly kicking wildly at what felt like the inside of her ribcage, and while her legs were still trembling from trying to grasp the entire situation, she felt her knees give in before she realized what was happening.

She gasped out, and raised her arms as to grab something to hold on to, but she reached nothing but the thin air as she felt her body falling.

Out of the blue Frida sensed two arms swooping under hers and around her chest, the entire weight of her body suddenly held by someone from behind.

Frida was surprised when she turned her head to see Floki holding her in his arms, a deep line carving his forehead as he gazed down on her, his lips pushed into a white line behind his rugged beard.

Floki carried her silently with outstretched arms like she was a convenient piece of furniture, no signs of straining on his face.

Frida felt her cheeks blush as he placed her on one of the stools that surrounded the longtable. "Pure water, Thyra," Frida heard Ragnar order one of the servants from somewhere behind Floki, but she turned her eyes to find Floki's above her, something very strange and unfamiliar shining from his ocean blue irises.

"Th-th-thanks," she managed to stutter in between small breaths, and she finally released her tight grip on the rough fabric of his sleeves.

She heard him hiss out under his breath as he turned away from her to let Ragnar through to her. Ragnar bend down before her, and she soon felt his hands on her stomach, swaying gently over her in soothing movements.

"My love?" he whispered over her, searching for her eyes and reaching his hand up to tuck some of her hair behind her left ear.

She shook her head lightly, as to not amplify the dizzy sensation that made her eyes swim a little in her skull, mumbling: "I'm just a little… overwhelmed, that's all. Freke came back, he, uh… brought a prey."

She sensed Ragnar turning his gaze back to the dead stag by the entrance of the long-hall, before he sighed out. "I guess he did not follow Bjørn, then," he stated bluntly, disappointment obvious in his voice as his eyes travelled back to her.

Frida pushed her lips into a thin line. "The stag was attacked by something else, a very large animal. Rollo says it's a bear," she spoke almost in a whisper, "Ragnar, what if…"

Her words died out before she could finish her sentence.

She finally let her eyes turn to his, and she embraced the sensation of him piercing through her skull as he stared at her with dark eyes, his brows slightly furrowed.

A lot of things were being said between the two of them as they looked into each other's eyes, and for a quick moment Frida thought that Ragnar was to break into a run for the woods as to trace the tracks of Freke that would lead him to a giant killer, a creature that might end of hurting Bj…

"He will know not to engage in a fight with this animal," Ragnar breathed inaudibly, stopping Frida's trace of thoughts.

She bit her lip as she took in his words, and after a short while she nodded in agreement. Bjørn was not foolish, even as he had wandered off into the woods by himself. He was a well-brought young man who could make the right decisions on his own, she was sure of it.

However, she did not like the idea of Bjørn wandering around the woods with an animal like that wandering with him.

A sudden sound of a small throat clearing behind them had Ragnar yanking to a stand, turning around to weirdly step to the side to reveal the Götaland princess Ingeborg standing behind them with innocent eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I had to ask. Are you alright?"

The icy blue eyes of the snow white blonde in front of them turned to Frida, and she felt air escape her lungs unwillingly as the frosty eyes of the princess captivated her for a small second, holding her gaze and her breath. Frida felt Ragnar nudging her shoulder.

"I, um, yes. A little dizzy."

She was finally able to tear her gaze from Ingeborg when their servant Thyra held out a horn with clean water in it. Frida thankfully accepted it, and she quickly sent a smile to the Götaland princess before drinking slowly from the horn.

The small chirping sound of Ingeborg's voice had Frida turning her eyes back to her, as she spoke again: "I have not myself carried a child yet, but I assume that it takes a lot of courage and strength, since the gods chose for it to be women to hold the role of growing another being and not men."

Frida's eyes widened as she listened to the princess' words, and she could not help but to curl her lips slightly as she saw Ingeborg's eyes roam over to Ragnar.

Ragnar dramatically rolled his eyes at the Götaland princess, and he turned to talk to Athelstan, who had made his way over to listen in on the reasoning of the current events.

Frida furrowed her brows as she watched the little exchange between the two of themplay out in front of her, surprised by the tone between them.

Ingeborg bowed her head honorably at Frida, insisting: "I wish that a friendship should spire between the two of us. We women are stronger if we work together. Let me know if there is anything I could be helpful with, yeah?"

Frida thanked the Götaland princess many times, genuinely accepting her invitation of attaining a friendly relationship.

Her air was calm and sincere, and Frida could not help but to feel a heavy stone fall from her heart as they nodded their heads at each other before Ingeborg stepped down, the immediate uplifting sensation shooting through Frida's entire body and warming her rapidly. She was glad that Ingeborg had approached her like she had.

She hoped that they would indeed come to know each other as friends some time.

...

"What was that little exchange between you and Ingeborg earlier today?" Frida smiled at Ragnar from behind her drinking horn as she sat by a small table that had been placed on the low grass just outside the Eastern terrace of the longhouse.

A couple of people had joined them outside to enjoy a bit of fresh air and the warmth of the sun, Athelstan, Floki and Torstein included.

Ragnar scowled at her with dramatic eyes, before he rolled his head along his shoulder blades, sighing out heavily.

"I hear she is some mouthful," Torstein grinned from behind his thick reddish beard.

"Yeah well, she is very opinionated in her fighting techniques," Ragnar added, "Think women should make up a bigger part of the shield wall."

His voice had some tone of distaste in it that Frida did not like, and she let her eyes fall to Ragnhildir who was sitting next to her on the small bench. She was playing with a little woolen doll that was shaped like a little bear.

"My lady," a soft voice soothed in her right ear, and Frida turned her head to see Athelstan's grey eyes of concern glaring at her.

She noticed Floki turning his head at him too.

His eyes flickered a little as he spoke. "I brought… some flatbread, thought you might care for some."

Frida watched as he reached out his hand to reveal a little wrapping that held several pieces of flatbread with a healthy layer of cinnamon spray. Frida let one hand sway to her stomach, and she thankfully reached the other up to accept one of the breads.

Floki's shadow soon hovered behind Athelstan. "What is this, Priest," his repulsed tone seethed, "Some Christian tradition?"

Frida furrowed her brows as she watched the expression of disgust on Floki's face as he towered up next to Athelstan, inspecting his wrapping carefully.

Athelstan rolled his eyes at the tall Viking in front of him. "I was just offering the queen some bread," he sighed, "Would you like some?"

Floki narrowed his eyes at Athelstan in front of him, who next to Floki seemed so little in his figure, Frida would have imagined he would feel the wish of crawling into a hole if he had the chance.

A long moment passed where the two men just stared at each other before Floki finally snapped one of the flatbreads out of the wrapping, a small giggle leaving his lips as he smiled at Athelstan. Frida watched Athelstan with furrowed brows as she did not like the way Floki acted around him, but she was surprised when she saw the smug smile that had spread over Athelstan's lips.

"Hoc est corpus," he smiled just as Floki grabbed one of the breads, causing Frida to laugh out as she easily recalled the words as being those pronounced by Christian priests as they handed out bread during supper.

Floki made a small hissing sound as he turned away from the two Northumbrians, and as he walked away he mumbled: "Hokus Pokus."*

Frida reached over to pull Ragnhildir onto her lap, and she bend down to place a kiss on her hair as she let her thoughts wander to the coming day. They were to make a short trip to the famous moor at Heddinge, a small village to the East, in which it was said were the kingdom of elves.

"Ellefolk* is said to have their kingdom in this moor," Ragnar had explained her, "and many travel there to experience the magic there is hidden in it."

"Magic?" Frida had asked, intrigued by his changing air.

"You will know when we get there tomorrow."

* * *

 ***Bjørn (bear): This is obviously a play of words that works in Danish but not in English. However, I wanted to include it because Frida probably would have reacted the same way as you guys; thinking Rollo meant Bjørn and not 'just' a bear.**

 ***Hokus Pokus: This means something ala "Abracadabra" or "mumbo-jumbo" in English, but I could not find a real translation of it. It is a Danish saying that is traced back to the early Latin word of the Christian supper "Hoc est corpus" which means "This is my body/corpus" (from Matthew 26, 26). Now it is used more as to say "mumbo-jumbo" about something you find weird, or some 'magic' that you deem to be unreal. It is clearly an old mocking of the Christian ritual, so I thought it to be fit in this context ;)**

 ***Ellefolk: elves (in the Nordic mythology)**


	49. Chapter 49

**Hey guys.**  
 **This chapter will be kind of different, as I have tried to incorporate a very VERY old Nordic (it was sung in Denmark and Norway, I do not know if they sang it in Sweden as well) folksong that describes a place like that where Frida and the rest of the characters are going in this chapter.**

 **If some of you find it weird, well, so do I. It is normal for Danish folksongs to be kind of strangely written, and they always end with repeating the same line. This is because these songs were always told orally, and so therefore, a recurrent line was always spoken at the end of every verse as to create coherence in the story told with the song. If any of you guys have tried to read some of the old sagas, you will know what I am talking about. Ragnar's saga is for example very hard to read as it consists of a lot of namedropping and references to songs, people, etc. that is hard to keep track of.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

The voyage to Heddinge was much longer than Frida had expected. Even as Ragnar had explained her the road they were to cross to reach the famous moor at this village, she had never estimated it to be so long-lasting and unvarying.

Surely, the landscape that stretched itself around the small group of people that had left Kattegat for the day was indescribably beautiful with its long low fields where clutches of purple ling blossomed over the heathy grounds, the twisting and curvy roads they were riding along like serpents snaking their way in between the flowery fields and lush greenery.

The farther the group travelled into the country, the denser the forestry grew around them and the more fertile the earth seemed to turn under the hooves of the horses pulling them.

But even as Frida sat comfortably in her little wagon, and the summer sun warmed her skin deliciously as they made their way across the country, she soon grew bored with the landscape around her, and she found herself wishing to be riding one of the horses herself. Then, she would have been able to ride freely among the people of the group, making random conversation like the rest of them.

Instead, she had been placed in the trunk of a little sturdy wagon, Ragnar's orders, which was steered by Ubbe and Hvitserk. They were the only children of Ragnar's who had been allowed to come with them on their voyage, and they had been exceedingly joyful when they were given the duty of directing the wagon, so their current mood were colored with excited voices and overdriven laughter.

It made the voyage a little more comfortable for Frida, as she could not help but to smile from the exchange of cheerful words and songs that continuously roamed between them.

As the two young voices started singing a song that Frida had not heard before, she turned her face curiously to them in front of her, and she listened carefully to their words as the group progressed through the lush Danish landscape.

"I rested my head on the Elf-hill tall,  
where my eyes lay dormant,  
two virgin maidens swiftly approached me all,  
they wanted to speak with me.  
 _Since I saw her first._ "

"One maiden palmed my white cheek,  
the other she whispered in my ear:  
"Awaken, young fair lad!  
Oh, do you wish to join the dance?"  
 _Since I saw her first."_

""Awaken, young fair lad!  
Do you wish to join the dance?  
My maiden shall a story sing to you,  
the most beautiful of songs, if you wish to hear it."  
 _Since I saw her first."_

Frida found herself smiling carelessly as she listened to the story being told in the song, and while her eyes travelled to Ragnar's broad shoulders hovering over the horse trotting in front of her wagon, her thoughts wandered aimlessly under the blaring midday sun.

She wondered what it must have been like to be raised in a land like this.

Would she have been where she was today?

Would she have been how she was today?

The many children whom she had gotten to know since her arrival here in Kattegat all had some sort of deeper natural understanding of things, of life all things considered, than the children she remembered from her old homeland. It was as if they knew that life was a gift they were to appraise and uphold, yet, they enjoyed richly from the old stories and wordings of the past like every child in Northumbria would do.

However, Frida concluded as she eyed Ubbe and Hvitserk singing above her, it was as if they knew that the stories were to be listened to, learned from, carried along to the future generations as acquired knowledge of the past.

*"One maiden started to sing her song,  
so fair above all of the women,  
and the struggling current stilled on,  
as before the water ran rinsing.  
 _Since I saw her first."_

"And the struggling current stilled on,  
as before the water ran rinsing,  
the little fish in the river swam,  
they played with their fins.  
 _Since I saw her first."_

"And all the fish in the river swam,  
they played with their tales,  
all the birds that in the forest were,  
they started chirping in vales.  
 _Since I saw her first."_

The sound of hooves over mush earth had Frida looking around, realizing that the nature around them had turned swampier as the song prolonged, the now damp air clinging to her skin like the sticky porridge Ragnhildir always had for breakfast, and the greenery around them darker.

She sensed how the entire atmosphere of the forest they were currently passing through had changed, and how a deep silence had surrounded them, as if they were the only living beings there.

Still, the forest seemed to cloud a certain air from the roots of the tall trees that towered over the small group, and Frida quickly felt a nervous shiver run down her spine as her eyes traveled over Floki's figure further down the path. Maybe they were getting close.

""And hear, young fair lad,  
would you with us stay,  
then, we would teach you book and rune,  
for to read and write."  
 _Since I saw her first."_

"They danced along, and they danced besides  
all in the elvish voyage,  
while the fair young lad sat  
resting with his sword.  
 _Since I saw her first."_

""Hear us, fair young lad!  
Will you not speak with us?  
For it is known that sword and keen knife  
your heart must hole up."  
 _Since I saw her first."_

Even though the boyish voices twittered the song with beams of innocence and childish smiles, there was still a tone of warning in their tale, an immediate cautioning resounding as the story unfolded between them.

Frida easily pictured two beautiful elvish girls moving in dances from the edge of the forest towards an unsuspecting young and tiresome warrior, how they would persuade the unwary lustful man to come with them to their kingdom to learn the arts of the books, and how their beauty would fool, spellbind him even, to have their ways with him.

The two elvish maidens Frida pictured in her head bore the same decorated and most stunning features, both of them shining with long snowy blonde hair and frosty ice blue eyes.

When Frida found herself staring thoughtlessly at Ingeborg, who was riding close to her wagon on the path, she quickly shook her head and turned her eyes away, feeling her cheeks heat when she noticed Ingeborg was staring back.

Frida cleared her throat and silently prayed that Ingeborg had not taken notice of her lengthy glare.

"I have never heard this tale before," the chirping voice of the Götaland princess spoke as she nodded her head in Ubbe and Hvitserk's direction, earning Frida to close her eyes shot for a quick moment, "Have you, my lady?"

Frida hissed out under her breath, and she quickly turned to smile at the Geat beside her. "No, this is also my first," she breathed from stiff lips, still trying to push the image of the elvish maidens looking exactly like Ingeborg out of her mind her.

A weird expression flashed over Ingeborg's face as her eyes travelled quickly to Ubbe and Hvitserk behind her.

"Oh," she spoke shortly, her lips forming a small 'o' as she glared back to Frida, some look of disbelief easily recognizable in her icy irises.

Frida wondered why this would come as a surprise to her, and she raised an eyebrow at the princess.

Frida could see her trying to control the expression over her face in an effort to conceal her doubting of Frida's words, but Frida simply shrugged her shoulders, saying in an apologetic tone: "I'm still learning about the Norse way of life, but there is so much knowledge to acquire, it can be overwhelming sometimes, as you surely understand."

Frida smiled lightly as she watched Ingeborg widen her eyes, and quickly turning her gaze to her hands that were folded around the straps of the horses' halter in her lap. A moment of silence passed between the two women, Ubbe and Hvitserk's singing suddenly resounding loudly between them.

"Excuse my ignorance," Ingeborg smiled curtly, "I assumed that… Are you not from here?"

Frida was surprised to hear the baffled tone in her voice, and she felt her lips curling into a wide smile.

"No," she chuckled lightly while shaking her head, "The gods brought me here."

Another wave of silence washed up between the two women, and again Ubbe and Hvitserk's singing prevailed.

"Had the gods not blessed my fortune so,  
that the rooster had stroked its wing,  
then I would surely have stayed in Elf-Hill  
all with those elvish women.  
 _Since I saw her first."_

"So I counsel every Danish lad,  
who riding will in the forest,  
do not ride yourself to Elf-Hill tall  
and lay your head to sleep.  
 _Since I saw her first."_

Frida's lips were curled into an almost invisible smile the rest of the journey to the moor near Heddinge.

She was surprised to hear that Ingeborg had actually deemed her to be Norse, and it somehow made her heart beat stronger from pride. She had learned a lot since her arrival here in Kattegat, even enough to make the Geats believe that she actually belonged here.

But she did belong here, did she not?

Ragnar spent most of the journey in the front of the travelling group with Floki, leading them safely through the wild landscape that persisted around them. As the group finally reached the outskirts of the flourishing forest they had been progressing through for the last hour or so, Frida found herself thinking about the first time she had seen those two Northmen, and how unraveled her mind had been as they had slammed open the doors of the Christian church she had been in.

She remembered how chills had run down her spine when she had seen the malicious grin on Floki's lips, his dark encircled eyes shining devilishly at her from the crowd of the tall and broad Vikings that had come to raid the Northumbrian village. And she remembered how Ragnar had moved elegantly from the crowd, speaking in his strange throaty language to the priest at the altar, the sounds of his language earning her blood to rush for her ears as he had encouraged for the priest to reveal their treasures.

Frida's eyes roamed over Ragnar's figure as her thoughts wandered, how his braiding fell from his head down over his broad shoulders and to his back, swaying slightly with the trotting of the horse he was riding.

She sensed that they were close to the mysterious moor even before Ragnar raised his hand for the group to come to a halt. A tingling sensation had started growing from the pits of her stomach as they had reached the thick shrubbery that was the edge of the beech forest, and she stretched her neck to see how the moor had appeared before them as if out of the thin air, majestically stretching itself out before their eyes, gleaming with a unearthly light.

Frida quickly understood why it was said to be the kingdom of the elves. A strange current seethed through the air around them, an almost magical feeling soon cleaving to the skin of the small group members that slowly entered the swampy grounds of Heddinge.

Frida straightened herself in the wagon, and she could not help but to smile as she found herself glaring at the oncoming landscape before them, her heart filled with childish expectations of the place they were heading.

She hoped to see some of the magical creatures that the songs spoke of. And see if these elvish maidens indeed looked alike Ingeborg. She was sure of it.

* * *

 ***Fun fact: In Danish, you say "ellevild" when you are really excited about something. This saying has its origins in the stories of the Ellefolk, because the elvish females would make men go crazy, kind of like mermaids or sirens.**

 **If you want to listen to a modern (Norwegian) version of the song, go to You Tube: *** /watch?v=45z8h_kIew8 (Her voice is very beautiful, and Norwegian is always beautiful to listen to, so I suggest you listen to at least some of it).**  
 **If you are more interested in an older (and more historically correct) version of the song, here goes: You Tube *** /watch?v=jBsw5kJgecM**

 **I know this chapter was kind of a summarizing in many ways. However, I liked to have some of Frida's thoughts explained a little better after everything that has happened. Thoughts?**


	50. Chapter 50

**Hey guys! I woke up this morning, had myself some rice porridge, turned on my coffee machine, did some snow shoveling, had myself a cup of coffee, and decided to write a chapter. Might as well continue in the Viking mood, right? :) Oh... Smut is coming.**

 **Enjoy my 50th chapter of Frida! How did I ever reach this many chapters? You guys, probably. Hugs!**

* * *

"Look! Look, Hvitserk! You see it?" The whistling sound of Ubbe's whispers sneaked their way into Frida's ears as the small group walked close down a wet and soggy path of their destination, the moor of Heddinge.

Frida narrowed her eyes down at what Ubbe was pointing at, but she saw nothing but the reed grass that flourished heavily around the edges of the many bog pools that covered the area as she took careful steps forward, constantly feeling her husband's hands on the small of her back. She could sense his tension easily through the thick and wet air of the moor, as they moved slowly forward, how his eyes repeatedly hovered from her to Ubbe and Hvitserk, who were further up the path.

Even though Frida had told him to just follow his sons and let her walk on her own, he had insisted on staying behind her, a small snort and a glare of narrowed eyes was his only answer to her proposals.

She sensed how his hand moved over her back along with her every step, quickly calculating how to advance if an accident were to happen, and she could not help but to feel warmth coating her heart as she took in the beauty of the landscape in front of her.

The moor was indeed very mysterious. The enormous amounts of pools of bog water divided the moor into narrow paths that were crooked and strange, tall and strong birch trees towering up from the waving earth that was covered by lush evergreen moss. The sticky warmth of the moor caused clouds of mist to roll from the stills of the bog water and over the ground like a mystic spell, thick in the air like the steam over boiling water.

The sounds of the place were even more strange and unfamiliar to Frida. You would have expected to hear frogs or crickets in a swampy place like this, but it was so very quiet compared to any forest she had ever walked through, small dripping noises repeatedly clinging from the watery grooves, the sound of a chirping bird only heard once in a while.

There was another sound too, a sound that Frida could not recognize, even as she strained her ears as she made her way over the miry moss beneath her. It was like a gentle swishing sound, a whistling of some sort constant in her ears, as if the nature around them were soughing.

As if it breathed.

A small splashing noise had the whole group startled, every one of their faces turned sharply to the moving water at their left, where expanding rings of water was the only sign left of the creature that had surfaced the water.

"I bet it was one of the elves, Hvitserk," Ubbe whispered with a smug expression over his face, causing his little brother to look over his shoulder.

"Stop scaring your brother, Ubbe," Ragnar growled from behind Frida, before puffing at her, ordering her to keep moving.

Frida sent a last glance back to the stirring water, and when she turned her eyes back in front of her, she saw Floki watching it too. She sent him a small smile, and he moved the corner of his mouth a little upwards at her, probably doing his best to return the notion before too turning around to move further ahead of the path.

As had been told in the song from before, fish were of plenty in places like these, so Frida shook her head a little as to shake off the weird feeling that was gnawing at the back of her skull, causing her to look over her shoulder just like Hvitserk had.

The small group of people continued on like this for a while, before they found a high-ground with solid earth, where they were to rest. They had brought some flatbreads and sausages, accompanied by ale of course, that they were to enjoy in the beautiful surroundings.

And it did feel wonderful, to sit there between the greenery of what was known to be the kingdom of elves and have lunch, small conversations scattered among the group of people that were resting beneath the shadowing crown of a tall birch tree.

Floki had already given up making a fire, as all of the twigs nearby were too wet for the flames to lick.

Not that a fire was necessary, to say the least. The late summer was hot.

Frida could feel how a fine cover of sweat ran over her skin. Which was probably why Floki had just given up and let himself fall to the cool earth under his feet, spreading both arms and legs as to let some air cool his skin.

Frida quickly noticed how small mosquitoes danced over the still waters around them, and how the earth suddenly crawled with life around them, small insects and bugs peeping out from the grass under her. She rose to her feet in a swift movement, and made a little jump on her feet.

Not that she was not used to insects in her everyday life, just not this amount of them being this close to her.

"Where are you going, love?" Ragnar voiced from over by the tree trunk of the massive tree the whole group was resting under.

His eyes were almost closed, as he sat there, and she sent him a little assuring smile as she took some steps away from the tree. "Just looking around a little, I won't be far," she smiled as she turned her eyes to the beautiful nature in front of her.

It was like a fairy tale walking among these woods, and Frida had a tingling sensation creeping over her skin as soon as she turned around a little curve in the path in front of her. A beautiful path ran like a river in front of her, enclosed by the striped white trunks of birch trees, and she smiled to herself as she continued down its crunchy path.

She could still hear the high pitched voices of Ubbe and Hvitserk chatting, so she knew she had not gone far.

The path she walked on soon opened up in front of her, and she found herself suddenly gazing into a small sunlit meadow, in which wild red flowers grew low over the ground, small yellow milk tubs* appearing here and there in between.

When she sensed movement ahead of her, she felt her heart beat fastening, and she turned her eyes quickly, only to find herself staring into the brown eyes of a young fallow deer. Its head was peeping out from the lush thicket edging to the thicker forest behind the meadow, and it seemed to be looking directly at Frida, its eyes curiously roaming over her figure.

Frida froze in her stance, her eyes not leaving the deer, and she felt the breaths of the moor around her leaving a small stripe of moist over her upper lip as she stood there. The sight of the deer in front of her, glaring at her, had her breathing calm breaths, exhaling gently into the warm summer air.

The fur that ran along its throat was white, but over its lengthy back ran a thick coating of brown, spotted with small beads of white, but this deer had no antlers growing from its scalp. It was a female, she could tell not only from this, but also from the smoothness of its face and its eyes, curious but alert, reminding Frida of the innocence of her own childhood memories.

She suddenly saw the image of her mother flashing by for her eyes, like a ghost of the past, but not frightening her in any way, but reviving something dead inside of her that felt warm as it started pumping along with the blood in her veins.

Frida closed her eyes for a small second, and smiled to herself as she shook her head lightly.

How peculiar that it was in a place like this, a moor this peculiar and unique in its every breath was to remind her of her mother's soul. But then again, the air that circulated here, the atmosphere that the tall trees and the low still waters created in the mist of the landscape somehow made her feel like she had when she was a child, being around her mother. She just could not remember why.

A sudden sound behind her had Frida swirl around in a quick movement, raising one of her arms in front of her while protecting her stomach with the other.

She lowered her arm when she realized that it was Ragnar who had caused a twig to snap behind her, coming into the meadow with a curious smile on his lips.

Frida exhaled in a chuckle over how strange this place had her acting, and she smiled at her husband who was approaching her slowly, still this curious smug curl over his lips. She had already forgotten everything about the deer.

"I followed an elvish girl here," he soothed from his lips that barely opened as he spoke them, his raspy bass traveling gently into Frida's ears and down into her stomach, calming her with its warmth.

The air still had her skin tingling as she raised her eyebrow at him, tilting her head slightly. "What did she want from you?" Frida played, as he came closer to her, his arms innocently tucked behind his back.

"Hm," Ragnar smiled crookedly, and squinted his eye at her as he closed the distance between them, towering over her, his eyes piercing down into hers, swallowing her in their light as she stood there. "She wanted to seduce me, have her way with me," he rasped over her face, his lips curling ever so smugly.

Frida raised her eyebrows. "And you followed her?"

Ragnar puffed out a small cloud of air from his lips, wetting them, before he spoke: "Yes, I think she is here right now, singing for me."

Frida let her eyes wander over the shrubbery that surrounded them in the meadow. She could hear nothing more than the breathing soughs of the moor, the humming of a bee flying lazily by in the warm rays of the sun nearby also prevalent in the sunlit circle.

Frida smiled curtly. "Hear, young fair lad, will you not stay? I will teach you things of new that only the depths of your heart knew you have long desired," she soothed melodically, stretching her neck as to let her voice travel better into his ear.

She could feel the his heat beaming of him, sending small bolts of lightning to shot over her skin along with the tingling of the forest air, and she felt herself trembling a little, when Ragnar breathed into her ear. He planted a soft kiss on her cheek, and Frida felt herself give into him, leaning her entire body into his arms.

She hugged her arms around him, and turned her face to his, his lips already crashing upon hers, causing her breath to get stuck in her throat.

His lips felt hot on hers, and she sighed out into their kiss as she felt him cup her face with his rough hands, the heat beaming of him like a fire.

"Your magic is too strong, I… I'm afraid…" Ragnar smiled in between small kisses, but Frida hugged him tighter, forcing her tongue to enter his mouth, his words dying with the spread of his taste over her tongue.

She felt his hands shooting down her body, hugging her entire figure before they traveled to her bottom, groping around them entirely with his big hands and cravingly clenching them as he gently let his teeth bite the tip of Frida's tongue, causing her to whimper out into his mouth in surprise. But Ragnar did not stop taking what he wanted.

He planted long wet kisses on her lips that were already throbbing from their rough exchange, and he let his hands sway over to grab at her breasts that were growing big with her stomach, and he squeezed them gently, though, and Frida sighed as she gave into his taking.

His touches felt good over her skin, and she sighed into his mouth when he reached one of his hands under the fabric of her dress, cupping her breast greedily, grabbing at one of her buttocks with the other.

Frida felt herself blushing heavily as they stood there in the meadow, and she suddenly grew conscious of where they were. "Ragnar," she soothed in something between a whisper and a moan, "We're not alone in these woods."

She felt his mouth leave the skin of her neck as he let his face turn to the sky above them. "No, I know," he breathed before he pulled her down to the soft green ground under them, placing her there gently.

It was not that she was not conscious of what they were doing. It was just that she could not stop it.

She was somehow feeling a little bit dazed by the thick air of the moor, and the tingling sensation over her skin had Ragnar's every touch send small vibrations over her body like hot lightning bolts. So she could not help but to whimper helplessly when Ragnar's fingers suddenly pressed over the fabric between her legs, a little explosion of heat and moist shooting warmth up her entire body.

She could feel his eyes over her entre figure, but she had closed her eyes shut as she took the feeling in of him exploring her body. "I am the luckiest man alive to have such a beautiful woman lying here in front of me," Ragnar breathed silently as if it was not even meant for her to hear, "carrying my son so beautifully with her every day in her belly."

Frida smiled as she felt him positioning his ear to her belly, as if he was listening to the child inside her. His hands travelled to cup her breasts once more, and his eyes were suddenly piercing hers right from above as his mouth returned to hers, his lips a little gentler now as his hands travelled back down to the fabrics of her dress.

He slowly pulled at it, leaving the skin of her legs bared to the summer air, a light cooling sensation causing her to sigh out into their kiss. Ragnar groaned above her as he worked the fabrics of his trousers, and Frida felt her cheeks burning as his mouth worked the sensitive skin over her shoulder. She soon felt something warm and silky slide over her burning heat between her legs, and she whimpered helplessly as she lay there, not being able to do anything else but to give the Northman above her what he wanted.

"Just," Ragnar rasped impatiently as his hardness pressed at her entrance, "just…"

He entered her hard, in a quick wet movement, thrusting himself hard into her and grasping his hand around her hip, pulling her to him, crashing their bodies together.

His hardness pushed into her wildly, unsuspectedly, and she whimpered out behind closed lips as she felt him hit a spot inside her that caused warm waves of pleasure to ride over her body.

"Huh," Ragnar growled as he slid out only to thrust himself into her again with the same force, carving into her with another wave of pleasure. She pressed her eyes shut as she wanted to scream out into the calm airs of the meadow, but she controlled herself, barely, biting her lower lip hard.

His hand was still clenched hard around her hip, and he continuously pulled her down over him as he thrust into her in a slow but steady rhythm.

They were silent but rough as their bodies worked together over the forest floor, and Frida soon felt Ragnar digging his fingers into her hip as a growl rippled from his chest behind her, and she knew he was close to letting go.

She let her fingers dig into the earth under them, and she pushed herself unto him violently, surprising him only for a moment. Ragnar let his teeth scrape over the skin of her neck as he thrust himself inside her to her rhythm, her skin hitting his with a wet sound between the shrubberies of the moor.

"You are…" Ragnar breathed in a raspy groan before his throat seem to shut as he thrust himself into her one last time, roughly, his entire body trembling behind her as he came undone inside her.

She heard him panting exhaustively behind her for a short moment before his hardness slid out of her, causing warm liquids to travel down her thigh.

Frida breathed quickly as she sat up on the grass, letting her eyes travel to Ragnar who was already pulling up his pants. "What am I?" she asked in a breathy and calm voice.

"You are perfect."

* * *

 ***Milk tubs, or dandelions. I chose the word milk tub because the Danish word for it is "mælkebøtte" (milk-bin/tub). Fun fact and all.**

 **What do you guys think? Let me know! :)**


	51. Chapter 51

**Hi guys! I really must say that I am very happy about all the support you guys are showing me. Love all the follows and the favorites, and as my favorite, the reviews! You are awesome!**

 **I hope you enjoy my 51st chapter of Frida! Skål :)**

* * *

The way home from Great Heddinge was not as prolonged as the journey had been on their way there. The sun did not stand as high on the sky anymore, and so the air had a gentle freshness to it, cooling their skin gently as they backtracked across the Danish heathery landscape, overgrown with flourishing purple heather that filled the air with sweet and heavy fragrances.

But wasn't it always like that?

Going somewhere new always makes the nerves in your body tickle with expectations, while going back home has you tiresome from all the new senses and imaginaries that you have taken in during your journey.

But Frida still enjoyed the trip back home plenty. Ubbe and Hvitserk told more songs from their seat on the top of the wagon, and Frida was surprised when she heard Ingeborg sing along to one of them:

"The raven flies at night,  
in the day he may not fly.  
It shall have the misfortunate destiny,  
the good it shall not get.  
 _But the raven flies at night._ "

"It was the maiden Hermelin,  
she saw all from her window.  
She there saw the wild all-raven,  
he flies in the sky so high.  
 _But the raven flies at night._ "

The song carried on for another thirty verses or so, and Frida listened carefully to the story that unfolded with their chirping voices.

It was the most horrendous story of a poor girl whose fiancé was sent off to fight in battle, and because their father did not have faith in his return, the girl was soon promised to another man. This man had the appearance of a troll, his manners even worse, and so she stood in her window, wishing for a chance to seek refuge with her loved once across the sea.

But on the sky soon appeared a great raven, who spoke to her in a whisper: "Listen, my maiden Hermlein. What will you give in return of me flying you to your fiancé?"

And the maiden, strayed in her spirit like a sheep, told him that she would give anything, all treasures of gold and silver that she possessed would be his, if only he would take her away from her prison.

But the raven did not want her treasures, and he looked at her with the big black pearls in his skull that were his eyes, saying: "The first son that you will have with your fiancé is to be mine, and you will give him to me on the day of his birth."

Frida had felt shivers travel down her spine when the maiden Hermelin had agreed to the raven's offer, and soon she was with her beloved fiancé, in a foreign country and under a different moon. So the maiden Hermelin soon forgot about the black raven, and nine months later she birthed her and her fiancé a little son, and a still knocking was heard on the window.

"Remember what you promised me, maiden Hermelin, back when you were in your prison?"

And the maiden Hermelin remembered, she swept her son in soft fabrics, looking away as she handed him over, saying: "Take my son, take him away, he will never see his mother."

And the raven had scratched out her son's right eye in that instant, before drinking his young heart blood. And the mother cried, all around them cried, their tears like prayers to Asgård.

And so, soon the son awakened before their eyes as a warrior, strong and brave in his posture. The song ended with the melodic words:

"Now, the fair maiden Hermelin  
gone is her sorrow and misfortune:  
Now she has both brother and child  
and sleeps in her fiancé's arms.  
 _But the raven flies at night._ "*

Frida had furrowed her brows as the voices of the singers died down, revealing but the rhythms of the trotting of hooves on dry earth, meaning they had covered a lot of ground, moving themselves further and further away from the wet earth of the moor.

She sensed Ragnar's eyes on her coming from the right side of the wagon, and she saw him riding there with a little smile on his lips, his eyes gentler than usual. "What's wrong?" he asked in a small breath, as his eyes quickly travelled down to her big belly.

Frida chuckled out a little breath too, waving her hand at him. "Nothing, nothing, it was just the song, I um… It just ended weird."

Frida still felt his eyes on her face.

"How so?" he insisted, roaming over her with his blue crystals still.

Frida switched in her seat so she could better see him. The skin over his cheeks were reddening, the sun had been rough on them during the last couple of hours. She shook her shoulders lightly.

"I don't know. It just seems weird, how can she have both a brother and a child at the end? It makes no sense. Did the raven not kill the boy?"

Ragnar breathed out a small chuckled and turned his eyes to gaze at the horizon in front of them. The sun was starting to down over the Western outline of the sky in front of them as they were riding casually, still moving closer and closer to the waving landscape of Kattegat.

"Yes," Ragnar finally smiled with his eyes still pointed towards the path in front of them, "and the gods made him into the great warrior that he would have been, had he lived. His fate was still the same."

Frida weighed the words in her head for a moment.

"So he went to Valhalla? But then, Hermelin could not have had him. That was what I thought?"

She could sense Floki in front of them turning his eyes back at her for a quick moment, the corner of his mouth curling slightly.

Ragnar smiled: "When we die, we don't just disappear into thin air, nor even to the bones that we leave behind. Our spirit, our legacy, our story will still be here on this earth, circling between those near to you. Those related to you. So when the All-raven takes you to the golden gates of Valhalla," Ragnar finished, turning his gaze back to the coloring sky, "you live on here in Midgård in the stories that your people tell of you."

Frida kept quiet for some time after listening to Ragnar's words.

As beautiful and poetic as they might sound, they were true. Honestly, genuinely, trustworthily true, she knew that.

And when they turned over the path than ran along the top of the hill that would grant them a view of Kattegat longer down the road, Floki spoke similar words that carved themselves into the mind of Frida for her to always remember:

"Cattle die, kinsmen die, you yourself will also die.  
But the word about you will never die, if you win a good reputation."

"Cattle die, kinsmen die, you yourself will also die.  
I know one that never dies, the reputation of those who died."*

She felt them speaking to her heart in such honesty, she could not deny their meaning. For if one did not accomplish things that were of grandeur or marvel, people would forget your presence along with the mound they buried you in.

The truth of these words bore notes of bravery and power, but in all their simplicity they were sad too.

For Frida knew of many persons, alive as well as dead, who to her deserved recognition in the history of men. But who would never achieve it, she was aware.

And she found herself suddenly wondering who amongst the ones that she had come to know here in these lands, who would be remembered for all the improbable things they had seen to make happen?

Ragnar?

Floki? Athelstan? Rollo? Lagertha? Torstein?

Bjørn? All of Ragnar's children?

She felt the child in her stomach kick lively.

Herself? Her children?

She decided in this moment as they were riding casually down the hill that would lead them to their homes, that she would try to persuade Bjørn, when he returned, to agree to the marriage between himself and the Götaland princess Ingeborg.

The gods had to have a grand plan for this man, for his wits and strength bore so many signs of it, his legacy so powerful and his blood so pure. He was bound to do great things, and they were not necessarily to be placed in the village of Kattegat.

She understood that now.

And there was a certain peace to it, she felt in with the blood that pumped through her veins as she later that day sat on the wooden throne of Kattegat's longhouse, her eyes wandering over the many smiling faces that sat scattered across the hall, her hands thoughtlessly caressing Freke's furry soft head beside her. Bjørn would come home, and he would do many great things. She felt it.

There had just been a meeting in the long-hall between the leading heads of the two kingdoms, of Danes and Geats, and now a feast was playing out before her eyes, and she sat smilingly listening to the tones of the music that was playing from one of the corners of the long-hall.

She was thrilled when she recognized the song from earlier this day being played skillfully into the room, the already distant sensations the magic of the moor had made her feel vibrating slightly over her skin as she took a sip of honey mead from her drinking cup, enjoying herself in her seat.

Suddenly, she sensed movement from her left, and she quickly noticed the beautiful snow blonde hair of Ingeborg moving towards her.

Ingeborg smiled innocently as she placed herself in front of her, but Frida waved her hand in front of her, nodding her head at Ragnar's throne beside her. "Please, take a seat."

Ingeborg widened her eyes, and Frida could almost sense pride beaming from her chest. "Are you sure?" she asked in a small voice.

Frida nodded, before she lifted her hands as to bring forth one of the servants, asking for a refill for her and the princess.

"I must say," Ingeborg smiled widely as she accepted the drink that one of the servants held out for her, "you are a very generous people here in Kattegat."

She took a small sip of her mead. "I like the spirit of your men," she admitted in an innocent smile, "How is Bjørn like?"

Frida chuckled breathily, and raised her horn at the princess, saying: "Well, if you like spirited men, Bjørn is a man you'd be fascinated with. As the son of Ragnar who watched his father grow from being a simple farmer to a king, he has himself grown very strong and wise. Like his father."

Frida saw Ingeborg's eyes traveling to Ragnar, who was sitting down between Athelstan and Floki by the fire.

"Are they a lot like each other?" she asked, and Frida could sense a nervous tone to her voice.

She giggled. "Well, yes, I'm afraid so," she smiled into her horn, her eyes not leaving Ingeborg.

Ingeborg pushed her lips out shortly, before she sipped from her horn. "Good," she chirped, earning Frida to widen her eyes, "I expect him to fight well."

Frida could not believe she found herself surprised by Ingeborg's qualifications in a man, even now that she had lived for such a long time in a Norse land.

She laughed out heartwarmingly and cheered with the Götaland princess. "I think you would come to like each other very well."

* * *

 ***Valravnen (The All-Raven): It is an old Danish folk song. It is very long, as is normal for the Nordic folk songs, and it is about the raven that would come to take fallen warriors home to Valhalla or Hel (kind of like the Valkyries, but they could only bring the dead to Freya's or Odin's halls, not Hel's). If you want to listen to it being performed by some contemporary "Vikings", go to You Tube: ***/watch?v=V_7ax7OPpOI**  
 **KRAUKA, the artists, is a Danish Viking band that performs at Viking festivals, at museums, etc. They're pretty good.  
There is also a Faroese version of it: You Tube *** ****/watch?v=0k01zY822dk (This versions probably sounds more Norse than the Danish one)**

 ***These words are originally:  
** Døyr fe, døyr frender. Dør sjølv det sama, men ordet om deg aldreg døyr, vinn du et gjetord gjevt.  
Døyr fe, døyr frender. Dør sjølv det sama. Eg veit et som aldreg døyr, dom om daudan kvar.  
 **\- They are from the Elder Edda (Poetic Edda), and are said to be words of Odin himself. The Norwegian band Wadruna used them in their song "Helvegen", and if you want to hear their singer Einar Selvik perform it at some original Norwegian Viking mounds in Borre, go to You Tube: *** /watch?v=wjtdFVuSQXc  
The video also shows some replica of Viking outfits, etc. so it should be very interesting for you guys :D**

 **What did you think?**


	52. Chapter 52

**Hi guys. I'm glad to see that there are so many of you out there who return to my story again and again. I'm really excited that you like my story, even if you are a silent follower, I appreciate you :) :)**

 **I hope you enjoy, Skål from Denmark!**

* * *

It was a very light night, the sky seemed to gleam with a mysterious smolder, the stars spread across it illuminant like never before as Frida stood with her head turned up at the heavens above her. She sensed how the gentle breeze of the cool late summer air tingled her skin, the longer straws of the wild grass beneath her swaying over her shins, soothing her while the pulse of gentle drums sounded into her, drumming along her heartbeat as she let her eyes fall to the crowd of people around her in the meadow of sacrifice.

They were gathered to celebrate a final sacrifice with the royal Götaland family before they were to return to their kingdom across the sea of Kattegat the following morning.* And Bjørn had not yet returned.

It filled Frida's heart with something sorrowful and pale, for she had prayed to the gods every night of the couple of weeks Ingeborg and her father had stayed with them for Bjørn's return.

She found herself shaking her head lightly.

Prayed?

When had she started to pray, really?

For a couple of seconds, images of her vomiting violently from begging her old Christian god for mercy in the boat that had dispersed her from her old life in Northumbria flashed for her eyes.

From the orphan girl of the retired nun Lady Liofrun, Fridogitha had awoken with the roars of the sea and the Northmen that surrounded her to become Frida, a mother, a wife, a queen, a prayer…

She had seen the gods' path for her develop before her living eyes, and she had walked along its wild Pagan edges only to find an even more civilized way of life, a love here in Kattegat, ready to care for her even beyond death.

Frida shook her head once more and looked to Ragnar beside her, who was holding their sleeping daughter in his arms, his eyes roaming happily over her little face as the light of the flames of the bonfire in the middle of the meadow flickered over his face.

"Óðinn!" cried the voice of Elisef all of a sudden, blasting out over the now dead silent circle of people gathered around the rock of sacrifice, startling Frida who sighed out heavily into the quiet air.

"Freyr!"

"Freyja!"

Her voice rang into Frida's ears, they blared into the sky for all living creatures around them to hear. They rang with a natural melody, curving and voluming into the air like waves of a slow current, beautifully shaped, alive, and harmonic. Frida felt the many emotions than ran along with loud woman's eccentric cries, and she closed her eyes to let them fill her as she stood there in the crowd of villagers, of Danes and Geats, and Saxons even, who had come to this exactly rock to let their gods hear their words, and to maybe even hear words of the gods.

"Þórr!" she sang, "Loke, Frigg, Aegir, all of you! We ask of you to hear us, we ask of you to see us, we ask of you to be with us!"

A long silent moment passed between the circle of people who were only lit by the calm fire of their midst, and it blasted for Frida's ears, earning for her to hum out in a small voice, wanting to break the heaviness of the quiet noise around them.

The sweet fragrances that clouded heavily into the air from the herbs and flowers that had been shed over the fire snaked their ways into the minds of every person in the meadow, spellbinding them with a smoke of sweet magic, caressing them with notes of anemone. Frida breathed in greedily, wanting more of its intoxicating aromas. But she soon felt a sharpness in her nose too, the smell of fresh blood sliming into her nostrils, earning for her stomach to curl involuntarily.

"All, come together, come forth and open your hearts to the ones that are here, gods as well as men."

The drums still rumbled in a soft rhythm, causing some of the villagers to sway with their beats. The forest around them was black and embracing, as if nothing existed outside their small circle of light, so illuminated and vivid that Frida was certain the gods had noticed.

Ragnar's voice broke forth like a proud roar from beside her, thundering over the crowd of people, as he spoke forth: "We are here to celebrate that right now, it is light and it is calm, the warmth is still hugging our figures."

His eyes quickly travelled down to the child that was sleeping in his arms before returning to the flickering faces around him.

"In the summer, we all know, things are easier."

His eyes roamed over to Athelstan who was standing beside princess Ingeborg and her father Eysteinn. "And there is no celebration without solidarity!"

Frida saw Ragnar's eyes seek to Floki before he gazed directly at Eysteinn, continuing: "That's why we in a moment will drink our first toast. Because to share horns means that your share your trust. It is to declare that you are not here with bad intents or hidden thoughts."

A smug smile curled over Ragnar's lips as he raised his horn to the crowd before him. "May the fall be good and this sacrifice also. Skål!"

A loud roar of people raising their horns for their king, for their village for their country, and for their gods blasted into the sky, followed by a quick moment of quiet, all throats softened and nurtured by the sweet caress of wheat liquids.

Frida was surprised to see Ingeborg standing into the circle as the first person to sing her prayers, but she could not help but to feel a bit impressed over the immediate bravery of this girl.

Even though she had been prepared for a life of a leader, she was still just a girl. Just like Frida was…

"What we are, each and every one of us, only makes sense when we are something together."

Frida sensed her eyes hovering over Ragnar and her, but she could not see them probably from her place further along in the circle of people.

"My father wishes for the ties of our families, of Eysteinn Beli and Regnar Loðbrók, to be sealed. And if this is the will of the gods, if this is your will, I will fight for it with all the power of my heart and my axe. All hail!"

Throats were once more softened. Frida felt the warmth of the liquids gather in her belly like a steaming pool of bog water, glistening and mysterious, causing her breath to deepen. Her heart still beat along to the drums, and as they danced along in the dark of night, she felt herself stepping forward into the circle, eyes turning to her as she closed her own.

She could feel a smile growing over her lips as warmth dripped over her entire body now, and she knew that deep mossy green eyes were looking at her from somewhere in the crowd of people. Not those of her sleeping daughter Ragnhildir, but ones exactly alike, ones that she had seen in something between a dream and a painful nightmare.

She opened her mouth to speak words that seemed to flow independently from her mouth. They were hers, she just could not control them.

"She is the small children, dancing and playing. She is all of our senses… Vivid and wild. I declare serenity."

Frida filled her lungs with air in a slow breath, her entire body now burning with warming sensations. "I pray to Freyja. For she is the one who never leaves me alone. She is my inner strength and force, she is the fire that warms me. She is my strength. Hail Freyja!"

"Hail Freyja," the crowd concurred in a roar, caressing their throats yet again, drowning their bellies with strong ale.

When Frida stepped back into the circle, more people stepped forth and declared their hearts into the open sky that spread above them. Some were particular, others more wide, but it was enlivening to experience the closeness of the circle of people, and how their beings formed a unity around the dancing flames of the fire in the middle of the meadow of sacrifice.

Over the rock of sacrifice lay amongst many other offerings the magnificent prey that Freke had brought home from his hunt, its majestic stags curving heroically into the air from the massive stone, its blood drippling slowly down over the grey granite beneath its wide torso.

Their gathering lasted until the night had grown completely black and only smolders were left in the bonfire, the stars above seemed to have disappeared.

Or had they grown black too?

Frida was not sure.

She was sitting snuggled up with Helga under a quilted blanket close to the warmth of the smolders in the fire pit. Helga was chewing on food of the gods, mushrooms that had been passed on between the people around the fire.

Rollo's voice sounded from under a slurry breath made even more difficult to comprehend behind the garments he had covered his face under: "But that's just you, Floki, always so… sneaky. I could've sworn they'd seen you, but no."

Floki's snickering giggle caused Frida to smile with him, imagining the two of them trying to sneak past some guards on one of their raids in the East.

She sensed someone approaching their little group, and she turned her face to gaze upon Ragnar's broad figure closing in on them casually, Ragnhildir still resting peacefully in his arms. He had almost carried her all night.

"Hey love, you want me to…?" Frida greeted him in a smile, raising her arms to let him rest his.

But Ragnar only shook his head once and smiled sweetly: "No, I like watching her when she sleeps. She reminds me of you."

Frida leaned over to rest over Ragnar's shoulder instead of Helga's, breathing in his musky scent as he placed a kiss on her forehead. She could see that he had eaten the mushrooms too, his eyes were flowy, as if swimming.

They still pierced into hers when he turned them to her, staring into her depths with their crystal blue light. Her breath got caught in her throat, and she had to remind herself to breathe again.

"You were beautiful before, by the way," Ragnar squinted at her with his eyes, earning Frida to blush lightly.

"So natural. Freyja heard you," he smiled smugly as he narrowed his eyes at her once more, "and the other gods are coming too."

His eyes travelled to the sky over them, as if awaiting something extraordinary to appear before him as he sat there in the dark of night. A deep and dark rumbling growled from somewhere far away over the sky, and Frida felt shivers travel over her skin as her eyes too shot to the sky above.

She felt her heart beat fasten, as her eyes turned to Ragnar once more, who was starring wildly into the sky, his eyes shining with such a light, it had to be unworldly. Frida watched in amazement as he turned his eyes back to hers, and for a short moment, she felt lightning bolts strike through her flesh and immobilizing her for what felt like several minutes.

His stare was intoxicating, reviving, and she let it control her, breathing slowly out into the air.

Another rumbling of thunder roared from the sky, closer this time, and Frida felt her heart skip a beat as the thunder was moving closer, towards them in the night. "See?" Ragnar breathed in a smug smile, and he soon rose to his feet and reached out his arm for her to grab.

"Come, they have plans for you and me."

Frida giggled. "The gods?"

She rose to her feet as quickly as she could, her head was surprisingly dizzy from all the ale she had been drinking. He stood with his back to her and turned his face around, eyeing her from out of the corner of his eyes, as she finally took his hand.

"They want us to roar with them," he whispered as he took a final glance up towards the ever-changing sky above them, where dark clouds came rolling in over the horizon with a hastened rate.

She followed him gladly, and they soon roared with the gods that thundered across the sky over the village.

* * *

 ***The sea of Kattegat: I have gladly avoided this subject for quite a while, but here goes (I will be quick):  
In the Vikings series, it kind of comes off as if Kattegat is a village. I went along with this idea, because it is not clear where exactly in Denmark the story takes place. Actually, they are very vague when it comes to the geography, as Ragnar and the group both rides to Hedeby (which is placed in Southern Denmark) and walks to Uppsala (which is waaaaay up North in Sweden). But, since Ragnar was king in Denmark, and he took over the throne of another Danish king named Horik (yes, king Horik, we know him!), the village of "Kattegat" cannot be placed in any other Nordic country but Denmark. It is written in the sagas.  
Oh, what I wanted to say with this is that Kattegat is actually the name of the Southern part of the sea that divides Denmark and Sweden. The Northern part of the sea is called Skaggerak. Fun fact, yay...**

 **Are you still with me, guys?**


	53. Chapter 53

**Hi guys. This chapter is kind of long, but hang in there. I hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

When morning came, the storm had not yet left the sky that hovered over the village of Kattegat, and its surrounding seas seemed to be in turmoil, angrily crashing themselves onto the sandy shore as the sun rose behind thick blackened clouds.

The wind had grown strong and sturdy, and it rushed against the walls of the longhouse as Frida made her way into the long-hall, feeling strange from the lack of sunlight from the windows. The sky was still covered with heavy rain filled clouds of grey, the rays of the sun above could not burn through them, and so it was still dark, even as the roosters started cackling from somewhere outside.

Confusion hit her like a wall when she stepped into the long-hall, and she widened her eyes to find servants rushing over the floors with luggage in their arms, the sound of rapid conversations filling her ears with a swoosh, and she quickly narrowed her eyes down to a small group gathered in the middle of the room, where Ragnar, Ingeborg, Eysteinn, Floki, and Rollo stood speaking in hurried words.

"What do you say, Floki?" Frida managed to hear Ragnar say from where she stood, and she walked over towards them, her eyes turning to Floki's squinted face.

She saw how his dark encircled eyes flew to the air, his ears turning to the direction of the sea, and he curled his lips into a crooked smile, as he tilted his head at his king, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. He sucked in a lengthy breath between his tightened lips, a sound of consideration and defeat creaking from him, as he turned his eyes to the Götaland royalty beside them, just as Frida closed in on them.

"The gods are not done here. I would not sink my ship into these waters, no," he giggled, his eyes quickly turning to Frida as she greeted her husband with a quick kiss on the cheek.

His eyes hovered over her for a quick moment before he giggled out nervously once more. "A messenger from Bork* also brought news of thunderstorms over their lands. The whole country is surrounded by them."

Ingeborg sighed out heavily, while Eysteinn nodded, acknowledging the conditions of the day's travel. "Then we shall wait it out here, if the king shall allow us?"

His eyes turned to Ragnar, who quickly bowed his head down and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture.

"Of course, my friend. Are the beds in here comfortable enough?" he asked, waving his hand over along the sides of the room.

Eysteinn nodded thankfully, and Frida watched Ingeborg smile before turning around to release herself from the furry covers she had wrapped around her body as a shield for the rain, the air warm and thick from the moist weather outside.

Frida looked at the luggage that stood in the middle of the room, ready for the journey.

"That's unfortunate," she sighed to Ragnar and Floki, who still stood beside her while the rest had scattered into the other corners of the room.

Floki made a small jump on his feet before his eyes turned to Frida, sparkling at her with malicious intent. "Maybe," he seethed through his thin lips, and then his eyes rolled peculiarly to gaze at Ragnar, earning Frida to raise her eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean, maybe?" She folded her arms over her stomach, turning her eyes to Ragnar too.

Ragnar let his eyes roam over Frida's face for a couple of seconds before he shook his shoulders.

"We cannot seem to find Lagertha anywhere," he stated bluntly, no emotions or signs of thought behind his statement whatsoever.

He just blurted it out there, and he let it thicken the air among them, causing Frida to inhale deeply.

Her mind exploded with questions, but she did not know where to start, so she simply stared at her husband in front of her, waiting for something more to come, something that could help her figure out what was going on.

"Bjørn?" she managed to croak, and she saw Floki hissing next to her, his thumb racing up to his teeth, and Frida watched him biting its nail nervously while he glared maliciously at Ragnar.

Ragnar closed his eyes and nodded at her, and she tried to sink, as if to take in all of the new information, but she found her mouth to have dried up completely. "Have you seen him?" she asked.

They both shook their heads, and Frida quickly let her fingers travel to the door of the long-hall that was opening loudly. But in came rushing only some servants carrying barrels of ale. Frida felt her heart sink with her shoulders, disappointment obvious in the gush of air she exhaled.

"I'll find them," Floki whispered in a hissing breath of air before he sneaked away towards the door, "The bear cannot hide forever."

Frida stared at the spot by the door where Floki had disappeared out into the wetness, and she would have stayed there until he returned, had Ragnar not pulled her over to join the Götaland family over by the longtable.

The longhouse was crowded with people, servants who did not know what to do with themselves as their immediate plans for the day had been interrupted, villagers who had come from the market place to seek cover from the heavy drops of water that splashed over the grounds of Kattegat, mud rising slowly from the earth below, covering the many paths of the village with the red color of clay. Frida could sense a certain tension in the air around Ingeborg, who let her eyes travel over to the exit of the hall every once in a while, as if guarding it intently.

Ragnar and Eysteinn quickly started a conversation over the amount of boats they were to assemble next summer, and Frida felt the need to break the tension that she sensed grew ever so quickly around the blonde princess in front of her, so she signed for one of the servants to come speak to her.

"Let's, uh… make it more _hyggeligt_ *, shall we?" Fria smiled sweetly at the young servant, "could you find the musicians for me?"

"Yes, my lady."

"And please, bring us some wine too, if you will."

"Of course, my lady," the servant chirped and made a quick curtsey, rushing towards the storage room like an arrow through the air.

Frida started shaking her head immediately, when princess Ingeborg spoke.

"Please, you really don't have to…"

"Let's just enjoy ourselves while we wait, instead of stare at the door." She winked one of her eyes at Ingeborg, and she saw how the apple cheeks of the Geat colored heavily as the servant stepped forth to place a tray on the table between them.

Frida bit her lip and smiled to herself as she reached up her hand to toast with Ingeborg, and she silently regretted saying it, for she knew herself how she hated blushing in front of people.

"I agree," Ingeborg however chirped before raising her cup too, and she clinked it against Frida's cup, causing a loud ringing noise to blare out into the room.

The two women sent apologetic eyes to the closest people that surrounded them before breaking out into giggles, both of them drinking heavily from their silver mugs. The sweet and dry taste of the wine spread quickly over Frida's tongue, and she felt it oozing its way down into her belly like a warm fire, bubbling and burning her insides sweetly.

Ingeborg sighed out as she lowered the cup, and Frida looked over to see her smile with closed eyes, the redness of the wine over her lips reminding Frida of blood, and she blinked twice before turning her eyes away.

"I love this! We rarely get it back home. What is it made from?"

Frida looked into the blood reds liquids of her cup, and had her hand stir it around down there, earning small bubbles to appear of the surface of the red sea down there. "It is made from grapes, the red ones. Back in England, they stored it for a longer time than they do here, said it were to make the taste better. But I would not be able to tell the difference, I think, to be honest."

Ingeborg chuckled lightly, and Frida could feel her gaze upon her face when she took another sip from her cup. She could already feel the warmth of the wine spreading through her veins.

"It is so interesting that you are one of the Saxons, I would never have guessed it from your appearance. And your faith in the gods is strong, I felt it yesterday. How long have you been here?"

Frida smiled curtly at the snow blonde, before she answered her sweetly, glad to have even more time to make friends with the Geats.

The conversation that followed lasted for quite some time, and while they chatted about what it was like to be in another country, Frida could not help but to feel a curiosity spire inside of her as to know what kind of place Götaland was like, or entire Sweden for that matter. They downed a good amount of wine, while they ate some newly gathered red apples, their bellies and faces happy like the blood that flowed through their bodies.

Frida had not even noticed the music that was playing from the corner of the long-hall, and she suddenly came to remember their trip to Heddinge, and how they had shared some songs on the road.

"Tell me, Ingeborg. Would you like to share a Götaland song with us?"

She felt her eyes swimming a little in her head as they roamed over Ingeborg's stunning face, and she saw her waving her hand at her, giggling while shaking her head.

"No, you would not care to hear me sing, I promise you," she giggled into her cup and sent a couple of dancingly vivid eyes at Frida, who took a short look around.

She knew that Hvitserk would be able to persuade the shy princess.

"Hvitserk?"

The boy's eyes shot to her in the second she had said his name, and he looked at her questioningly, running over to her when she waved her hand at him.

The lanky boy trotted over to them, and sent her questioning eyes as he leaned in for a hug from her around his shoulders. Frida's voice was sweetened, when she asked: "Would you not care to hear a real Götaland song?"

Hvitserk's eyes lit up for a quick moment, and he raised his eyes to Ingeborg. "Yes, I would love to. Are you going to sing for us?"

Frida chuckled silently, and watched Ingeborg cringe her eyes. "Uh," she blurted in a gush of air, "But which one should I sing? Do any of your musicians know any Götaland music?"

Hvitserk and Frida only shared a quick look before Hvitserk rushed over to the musicians in the corner.

Frida could sense Ingeborg relaxing again, and she reached over her hand to nudge her arm. "You are not forced to do anything here, know that."

Frida felt the words flowing into the air between them, and she heard them repeat in her ears along with a sudden rushing. It sounded like the words carried more depth to them, more than Frida had intended for, but she let them travel the air as she sat there, watching Ingeborg curl her lips into a sweet smile, an honest one that spread over her face.

"Thank you," she smiled quietly, and soon a rush of air had them both turning their faces to Hvitserk, who stood before them with a smile over his face.

"He knows only one," he said in a slow voice that soon grew cheerful, "but he says he will bet you his right eye that you know of it too."

Frida chuckled out as Hvitserk eyed the princess, his eyes still childish, his features growing bigger. He was soon going to become more like Ubbe, spending his time with Bjørn and Rollo, instead of Ivar and Sigurd. Frida felt like he was still just the little boy she had met when she first came here.

But children do grow fast for the ones in her grown age, for time suddenly seemed to be something inexistent, unimportant in the count of days or months or even years.

The seasons fly by, and your mind speaks with the same voice, but your body and mind will age and learn, and you will suddenly walk along different paths, paths that you did not ever think were yours to mount.

Ingeborg laughed. "I'll take it. Which one, then?"

"Herr… Mannelig*?" Hvitserk spoke as if it was more of a question than an answer.

Ingeborg shut her eyes for a short moment, smiling widely, before she drank heavily from the wine in her cup and rose to her feet to place herself over by the musicians.

Frida shouted a small cheer for her from her seat between the villagers of Kattegat that too were placed around the longtable. The drums soon started pulsating in a slow rhythm. They were smooth and melodic, alone as they drummed, but Ingeborg's voice soon spread out into the room along with them, just as beautiful as her appearance, and they filled the ears of everyone in it, turning all eyes to her as her Swedish words curled into the room with her story:

"Early one morning before the sun ran up,  
before the birds began to sing,  
the mountain troll proposed to the handsome young man.  
She had a false tongue."

Frida noticed how most conversation had ended as Ingeborg and the musicians let their instruments fill the room, and she smiled comfortably as she listened to the fast melody of her language, the curling of the r's so beautiful and fascinating, she found herself swallowed by the song.

"Herr Mannelig, herr Mannelig, will you be betrothed to me?  
For that, I offer you gifts very gladly.  
Surely you can answer but yes or no,  
if you wish to or not."

Frida was surprised how pleasant the day had turned out to be, even though their plans had been very different the night before. And she found herself smiling heavily as the story progressed with Ingeborg's singing and the instruments chiming together, forgetting everything around her for just a moment.

That meant that Frida had not realized that in this very moment, Ragnar was silently cursing the tears that escaped the corner of his eyes as he hugged the son he had missed in his heart for what seemed like forever now.

She did not know in the very second that she took a small sip from her cup, while Ingeborg repeated the end line of the verse, that Lagertha was standing beside them with a heart as light as a feather, finally seeing Bjørn reunited with them once again, alive.

"The mountain troll ran out the door,  
she shakes and wails hard.  
Had I got the handsome young man  
I would have got rid of my plight."

But she felt it instantly when the door to the long-hall was opened, she sensed it in the change of the air.

Frida's eyes shot to the tall man that revealed himself before them from the wet darkness outside.

She stared when she saw that this man was dressed in the most excessive dark brown fur, all of it tied together over his right shoulder… Frida gasped.

Her eyes widened when she realized that the head of the animal that had once carried this fur was still intact, and she soon felt shivers run down her spine when she realized what animal it was from.

"Bjørn," she whispered, and she soon let her eyes connect with a couple of light blue crystals, shining at her with a familiar light of adventure.

Bjørn smiled widely at her, his eyes soon softening, turning to where the music was coming from. And Frida watched him see Ingeborg for the first time.

While she did not know whether Bjørn realized who she was, Frida watched him fold his hands in front of himself like Ragnar always did when he was short of words, a curl forming on his lips, his eyes soon turning back to her.

"Welcome home," Frida smiled, raising her arms to greet him with a hug.

She heard him chuckle into her hair as they hugged each other, and she felt his heart beat easily through the thick fur, strong and sturdy as ever.

"I am ready," he whispered to her, and she felt her heart warming inside her chest, something soothing shooting through her veins from her core.

The rain stopped within seconds.

* * *

 *** Bork Viking Harbor (Danish: Bork Vikingehavn): This place is so cool!  
It is a Danish Viking museum placed in a city named Hemmet. Its address is actually on a street named "Vikingevej" (Viking-street). So weird :D haha. However, if you ever come to see Denmark, you should totally go to there!  
I was there this summer, and I thought it was pretty cool! You can see real Viking boats there (made by the "Vikings" of the Bork museum), houses, etc. I got to see an exact replica of The House of Hedeby (YES! The house Lagertha would supposedly have lived in), and I saw a lot of Viking battles, listened to some live music, and yeah, it was just amazing (Plus we had, like, 30 degrees Celsius, really good for Denmark).  
I actually found a video on You Tube from the very day that I was there, it is of a demonstration of a Viking battle: You Tube ***/watch?v=_lfnXQ9cw04 … and YES, you DO see someone who looks exactly like RAGNAR in the video (the bald Viking with the light green pants and the beard).  
I was so close to just throwing myself at him. But I retained myself. Like the normal human being I am.**

 *** Hygge: A Danish concept. Go here: You Tube *** /watch?v=_mk-oOXmMl0**

 *** "Herr Mannelig" (Sir Mannelig): A traditional Swedish folksong. It is one of my favorites.**


	54. Chapter 54

***peeps her head out from behind her screen* Hi guys?**

 **First of all, I want to say that I am very sorry that it has taken me so long to post this chapter. I have started on another semester in my university, and it is crazy. I have to read so much and write a lot of assignments all the time, and therefore, I do not have a lot of time to write on this story. Sorry :(**

 **I hope to be able to post at least one chapter per week during this semester. And I hope you guys are still with me.**

 **I want to give a shout-out to a special someone between you all:** Shantigal **– you are one amazing person!**  
 **I have received nothing less but 46 reviews from you, one for each chapter you have read. And I love you for it :D Thank you for all the kind words and praises, and most importantly, thank you for the corrections and the questions you have made regarding my plotline. It helps me sooooo much. I have corrected the errors you pointed out. Thank you thank you thank you!**

 **Enjoy my 54th chapter of Frida! Skål!**

* * *

Bjørn's arrival had made the whole village breathe out in a sigh of relief, it seemed.

Most of them were already peeping their heads out from the warm hides that were their homes, but since the moon was already visible above them, no one bothered to leave the four walls of their warm cottages. The gods seemed to have calmed too.

The rain was no longer washing down over all of them in thick torrents, and the sky seemed to be clearing above them, the heavy clouds vanishing into the air like smoke from a fire.

Frida had not been outside for long, breathing in the fresh air that had been cleansed by the godly rain of the storm and sighing out in relief of Bjørn finally having come home, before she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She spun around to look into the rocky blue eyes of a tall blonde Norse woman. Lagertha was smiling at her apologetically.

"By the gods, Lagertha!" Frida blurted in a sigh, and she hurled herself forward into a tight hug, tightening her arms around Lagertha's strong figure. The blonde seemed to be surprised by the sudden contact, but she soon relaxed into the embrace, giggling sweetly as she hugged Frida back.

"I'm so glad to see you. And Bjørn," Frida breathed out as their hug ended and they turned back to look at each other.

Lagertha's face showed that she felt the same exact relief as Frida did, her eyes soft as she spoke: "I'm very glad to see you too, Frida. And I thank the gods too that my son is finally home. That is why I have come to you."

Her eyes hardened with her last sentence, and Frida tilted her head a bit at the beautiful woman in front of her as she sensed her air change. Something was up.

"What is your worry?" she asked quickly, lowering her voice as her eyes hovered over to the door leading back to her bedroom. It was closed, safe.

Lagertha let her eyes fall to the floor between them, biting her lower lip as she breathed in heavily. Frida watched her with concern in her eyes.

When Lagertha finally raised her eyes to look into Frida's, she spoke in a thin voice, her figure shrinking a bit as she said: "Bjørn is very… out of himself right now. He seems off, I can't…" She sighed out as she weighed the words in her mouth, and Frida only listened patiently.

Lagertha actually seemed scared, something that she had not seen many times before. "We're having a meeting soon in the long-hall. Ragnar sent me to get you. And… Well, will you maybe help me in there, if something goes wrong?"

Frida sent her questioning eyes, not quite following her yet, mumbling: "Well of course, Lagertha, but how do you mean?"

Lagertha stared at her for a moment before she whispered: "I fear for the coming raid in England, and I don't know why. I think it has something to do with Eysteinn Beli and his warriors. Something I saw in a dream. Will you back me up in there, if they agree to something we should not bargain for?"

The two women stared at each other silently for a moment, merely gazing into each other's eyes as a minute flew by without them noticing. Frida nodded firmly, causing a note of relief to flash over Lagertha's face.

She nodded too, whispering an almost inaudible 'thank you' as she turned around to enter the longhouse. Frida followed her into the long-hall, where a group of people sat gathered in a circle around the fire pit in the center of the room, and she soon felt Ragnar's stare on her face, luring her to him.

She placed a quick kiss on his forehead as she placed herself between him and the Götaland king, and she felt him swaying his hand over her big stomach as she sat down. The child growing inside of her responded with a kick, causing Ragnar to smile to himself, smugly.

"Now we can begin," Ragnar's voice towered out over the circle of people, "and I wish to speak first."

His eyes traveled over the many faces of the small group of people that were gathered in the long-hall, his lips curling smugly as they rested on Bjørn's figure. Frida noticed Bjørn and Ingeborg sitting next to each other.

"Now that we are all together, our plans for next summer's raid can finally take form. As most of you know, I do not wish for this raid to be like our past ones. I wish to seek out the king of England, speak to him. See if he can offer us something more than mere treasure."

Ragnar's voice almost echoed in the otherwise silent room. Frida felt warmth drip along her blood.

"In order to do this," Ragnar continued, his eyes roaming over to Floki's dark eyes, "we need to come in a large number. I want the English king to take us seriously. Our two kingdoms will strive to get as many boats as possible to cross the sea. This means that we all have to seek out more men to join us, go with us in our first meeting with the ruler of this land. And we need to do it fast. Eysteinn?"

The Götaland king nodded firmly, the word passing onto him quickly. He downed some mead before speaking. "Hear, Regnar. My daughter and I will return to Uppsala in the morning, and immediately sent out messengers. I hope to acquire six boats, maybe more, let the gods have it."

"Yes," Ingeborg chimed in, "When they hear that Regnar Lothbrok, the son of Sigurd Hring*, calls upon them, they will come, I am sure of it."

Frida noticed Bjørn's hand on Ingeborg's knee. She felt her cheeks blushing.

"I shall too ride out in the morning. I wish to go to Hedeby with my mother, to seek out the help of Kalf," Bjørn hummed out proudly.

Frida's eyes shot to Lagertha who stared bluntly at her son. Her lips were formed into a small 'o', and Frida felt her nerves tightening, remembering what she had promised her.

"Bjørn, I… He just gave us his only blacksmith. I do not know how much we can ask of him," Lagertha breathed, her eyes not leaving her son.

Frida eyed Bjørn too now, and she watched him pull his shoulders lightly, his eyes turning to stare into the fire in front of him.

"We will try," he stated in a firm voice.

Frida's eyes met with Lagertha's once more, and while they stared at each other for a short moment, before Lagertha nodded slowly. Lagertha looked defeated somehow, but she still sent a quick smile to Frida, telling her that it was alright.

"Of course," she whispered.

"And you, Regnar, you know how to communicate with the Saxons?" Eysteinn asked as he bit into a yellow pear, causing fruity juices to run down into his beard.

"Yes," Ragnar rasped smugly, his eyes glaring over to Frida quickly before returning to the Götaland king, "Athelstan and my dear wife taught me. They will both join us, come the summer."

Frida felt eyes turning to her face, and she looked down on her stomach that was bulking out underneath her dress, swaying her arms over it gently. She hoped their child would come before the first snow, so she could have plenty of time to prepare for the voyage.

She wished to be strong, even though they were not to fight. She had a dark tingling sense crawling in the back of her head that some kind of collision between the Vikings and the Saxons was inevitable. The axe and the sword.

Frida shook her head.

She had let her thoughts wander, and she quickly looked back to Ragnar, focusing on the conversation once more. "My dear friend, Floki, has promised me to work on more boats. He is our most skilled carpenter," Ragnar said.

Floki hissed out a giggle and waved his fingers awkwardly in front of him, bowing his head at the group of people in front of him.

Before long, the conversation spread out in the group, and Bjørn and Ingeborg were soon not to be found in the long-hall, as Torstein had pointed out with a raised eyebrow and a smile under his beard. Rollo barked out a laugh and cocked his eyebrows at Frida, chuckling: "They're probably borrowing your bathtub, huh Frida?"

Frida widened her eyes as the memory of Rollo peeping his head in when she and Ragnar had been…

She shrugged, shaking the image out of her head. "Shut up, Rollo."

The day had turned to night and soon people scattered from the longhouse, returning their heads to their pillows.

Only Bjørn and Ragnar were sitting by the fire at this hour, their faces close, their blue crystals staring into each other's while the embers of the fire were crackling joyfully.

"You know that I missed you more than I thought I would?" Ragnar whispered silently, letting his eyes drop to the floor beneath him, "You are one of the only persons here I fully trust. You and…"

"Athelstan," Bjørn broke in.

Ragnar breathed out a chuckle, raising his arm to rest it on Bjørn's shoulder. "Yes, Athelstan. And Frida. Floki."

As he spoke out the last name, his eyes rose to Bjørn's once more, and he watched how his son reacted to his words. Bjørn watched his father carefully, and he nodded firmly, his lips tightening into a straight line.

Pride shone from his eyes. "Yes, and mother, Rollo and Torstein."

Ragnar nodded. "Our family."

* * *

 *** Sigurd Hring/Ring: Swedish king and the father of Ragnar Lothbrok (hence his birth name, Ragnar Sigurdsson. Lothbrok is a nickname, like Ironside is to Bjørn).**

 **I know that this was kind of a "rounding up" chapter, but I really find it necessary in the progression of the story. I hope you guys enjoyed, and that you aren't too upset with me for not having posted for so long. Oh and OMG are you excited for Friday? (Vikings s4 has its premiere in Denmark on the 19th, buhu).**

 **Anyways, if any of you are wondering a bit about Bjørn and Ingeborg's relationship, and where it is going, I am kind of seeing them as perfect for each other.  
We'll see.  
Anywho, if you want to get a bit more knowledge as far as dating in Scandinavia (or Denmark) goes, I found a Canadian giving an explanation of some of the major differences between the North American dating "system" and the Danish one. Check it out, if you like: You Tube *** /watch?v=bgyU5lXbMNQ**


	55. Chapter 55

**Hi guys! Here is another chapter of Frida.**

 **In order to get into the right mood for this chapter, I recommend that you listen to this Danish folk song: "Sensommervisen" (late summer's song). It is one of my favorite Danish folk songs, because it beautifully describes the atmosphere of the Danish forest when fall comes. This version is of a girl choir singing it, and I find it very beautiful: You Tube *** /watch?v=Tla4aCMYEck**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter! Skål!**

* * *

She was walking in the forest near Helga and Floki's cottage home, along a small and narrow trail that snaked its way through the lush shrubbery that covered the forest floor, humming a small tune absentmindedly as she reached out her hand to sway over the leaves of a nearby gold flaming bush. She was not thinking about anything in particular, she was merely out on a little stroll, enjoying the beautiful sight of the forest slowly turning golden instead of green, as if nature knew that summer was ending even before the people that lived in it did.

She felt her legs moving by themselves as she continued along the narrow path carved into the flourishing thicket surrounding her as words started forming on her lips, a song she had never heard before coming together over her lips, her voice resonating through the otherwise silent forest:

*"The apples flame red on the branches of the trees,  
the harvest begins.  
Walking through the forest all alone,  
quiet in peace.  
Golden colors and late summer's breeze  
filling the heart with wistful music."

Her voice sounded strange, and Frida could not help but to get the feeling that someone was watching her as she walked slowly in between the big tree trunks that sprouted with oak leaves above her.

She could hear that the sea shore was still close by, the small gurgling of salty water licking earth soothing her ears gently.

She thought that she saw a couple of brown eyes staring at her from behind a blooming dogberry bush, but she simply kept going. She had to get somewhere.

"The summer's breeze rippling the waters of the lake,  
mysterious and dark.  
Flocks of starlings gliding high over the island,  
soon they'll depart.  
Golden kings and late summer's breeze  
filling the heart with wistful music."

She soon sensed how the forest around her grew darker and darker. She did not know for how long she had been walking, but she sensed that she was closing in on her destination. The brown eyes were still watching her, she felt it, but she too felt a familiar warmth bubbling from the pits of her stomach, and she swayed her hands down over her stomach. It was flat.

"The fragrance of wood fumes among brownish ferns,  
blue black berries.  
Quiet buzzing between leaves that are fading,  
the night is near.  
Golden colors and late summer's breeze  
filling the heart with wistful music."

An unfamiliar whistling sound snaked its way into Frida's ears as the words of the song rang out from her lips. She felt a tingling sensation in the back of her mind, a warning from someone watching.

Maybe it was the creature with brown eyes telling her to be careful?

Her eyes quickly scanned the forest in front of her, and she noticed a small meadow up ahead, silently unveiling itself there in between the lavish bushes speckled with ripe pome fruits. She started walking faster.

"Ripe rowanberries behind deep green branches,  
red is peeking out.  
Walking through the forest all alone,  
now I must go home!  
Golden kings and late summer's breeze  
filling the heart with wistful music."

As soon as she stepped into the meadow, a perfume that reminded her of parsley quickly made its way up her nostrils, and she suddenly found her eyes roaming over to the middle of the meadow.

Right there, as if it had appeared out of nowhere, towered the most majestic tree Frida had ever laid her eyes upon.

It was an ash tree, a huge one of its kind, and Frida felt her eyes widen as she took a couple of steps closer to it, and she marveled over its majestic appearance there in the middle of the meadow, how its branches reached up into the sky, higher than most of the castles she had seen in England even.

She reached out her hand to touch its trunk, she felt that she had too, curiosity shooting from her heart and pumping through her blood. But before she managed to place her hand upon its toughened bark, a hideous whistling sounded once more just down by her feet, and she quickly let her eyes fall to the roots of the tree, only to scream into the quiet forest air.

What had first appeared to be the enormous roots of the ash tree were really serpents.

Hundreds of them.

As if growing from the earth surrounding the tree, large and terrible serpents twisted and turned there, their sharp tongues licking each other with the horrifying whistle that she had heard before. She felt her blood drum dangerously in her veins, her heart pounding achingly in her chest, a sudden wind roaring around her, almost blasting her into the pit of snakes in front of her.

Frida tried to hold back, she tried to grab the trunk of the tree to steady herself, but just as she let her fingers brush against its rough bark, one of the serpents rose in front of her, its eyes piercing into hers while its tongue danced slyly over her.

She tried to scream once more, but no sound left her lips.

She realized that she could not breathe.

The serpent stared at her with death in its eyes, and she could see it pulling its head back a bit, its mouth opening slightly, revealing poisonous sharpness that was its teeth. They dripped with blood and venom.

Over the hideous sound of the whistling snakes, she suddenly noticed someone whispering, and she quickly turned her eyes to stare into a couple of brown ones further up the trunk of the tree. It was a squirrel talking to her, and she saw that it was crying.

"Hurry, jump in there," it rushed at her, and fear exploded in her chest as she realized what it was telling her.

"What?" she managed to whisper as she felt one of the snakes gliding its slimy body over her shin.

When she looked down, she realized that she was nude as she stood there, not a single cloth covering her body. She suddenly felt self-conscious and bare, and she tried to cover herself, to guard her body from the serpent, but it was too late.

A sharp pain shot from stomach, and a final painful shriek escaped her lips as the giant serpent launched itself at her, its sharp teeth biting into her pelvis and dragging her into the deathly pit below, darkness and pain quickly swallowing her completely.

She was going to die. This was her time.

A single eye was glaring at her, icy blue and piercing as she sunk into the darkness. Odin was watching her.

"Frida!"

"By Odin's great beard, Helga! Help me!"

Frida felt her body being tossed around between the snakes, and she heard a familiar voice calling her name. She tried to reach out for its owner, but she could not find him.

She cried out helplessly, feeling herself fall and fall, deeper and deeper into the darkness.

Serpents, waves of blood, turmoil, chaos, death. It was all coming over her like a heavy fur, forcing her down into the darkest pits of the world.

The smell of salt and iron paralyzed her, and she soon found herself staring into a couple of circled dark eyes that shone from the darkness. The owner of the eyes snickered at her.

Frida finally awoke from her dream.

As she opened her eyes, she felt her body immediately collapsing into the arms of someone, someone holding her as she was lying on the warm earth of the forest. Frida gasped out loudly, panicky and relieved at the same time, and her eyes quickly shot up to stare directly into the same couple of dark circled eyes that she had shone from the darkness in her dream.

Floki was holding her in his arms, his forehead carved deeply with concerned furrows, his eyes serious and afraid as he looked down on her.

Frida quickly let her eyes fall to her stomach, and she let a big gush of air escape her lungs as she saw that it was not flat anymore, like in her dream. She threw her arms tight around the man holding her, wrapping herself completely close into Floki's chest.

She could hear him exhaling in surprise, a hissing sneaking into her ear, reminding her of the whistles of the serpents. But she found herself relieved that it was Floki hissing at her now, and not the serpents, so she simply hugged him even tighter as her mind confusedly struggled to focus on reality again.

"Oh dear, what is happening to her?" Frida heard Helga's voice clinging from somewhere above them, but she could not find her as her eyes still rolled in her skull manically.

She heard Floki making a strange sound, like a shushing, which made her muscles loosen into his embrace again, her mind slipping back and forth between darkness and Floki.

He spoke some words that she did not understand, and she tried to open her eyes to see where she was.

Her heart was pounding achingly in her chest.

When she finally managed to open them fully, they immediately steered in on a small girl that was looking at her shyly from behind her mother's dress. When Frida realized that it was Angrboða smiling at her, she tried to smile back.

But she had not as much as stretched her lips when she heard the small girl whispering something that made cold chills travel down her spine once more: "Snakes bite, be careful."

* * *

 **What do you think? And what tree am I talking about? ;)**


	56. Chapter 56

**Hi guys. Here's another chapter of Frida!**

 **A fun fact from my day: I have seen about five ravens now, circling around my house as I wrote the last part of this chapter. It kinda made me feel like Odin was watching me while I wrote this. Haha :D For what it's worth,** **I really hope you enjoy this one.**

 **Skål!**

* * *

Frida felt Helga's eyes on her, constantly swaying over her figure as she sat there with her, Floki, Ragnhildir and Angrboða around the small fire they had cooked their lunch over, just outside Helga and Floki's home in the forest. And while she tried to ignore it, she felt a certain irritation growing from the back of her head as she heard the joyful chirping of a starling sounding above them, and she rose to her feet in a swift movement, trying to escape Helga's devoted attention by excusing herself to go pee.

As soon as Frida turned around some greenery and away from Helga's constant stare, she sighed out in relief.

What irritated her was not that Helga was worried about her, not at all. That was how she was, always the sweetheart. It was the fact that Frida could not answer the questions that were so immediate in Helga's stare, and they lingered between them like a thick cloud of absconding smoke, prevailing between the silent group as they had been eating, the silence pounding in Frida's ears as they had enjoyed some smoked trout on small pieces of walnut bread.

What did Frida's dream mean? Why had she dreamt the things she had, and why had she been so affected by them?

Frida swayed her hands over her big and bulky stomach, and she tried to remember the last time she had felt the child in there kick around. When she could not, she felt her throat tightening slightly.

What if her dream did not have anything to do with her? What if the dream had something to do with the coming of her unborn child? What if he was not going to live?

She remembered how the serpent of her dream had bit into her pelvis, and how the pain had been most excruciating and real. Frida felt a cool sensation of fear travel over her face as she looked at the outstretched fabric that covered her abdomen.

"Please be alive and well, little one," she whispered inaudibly into the silence of the forest that surrounded her, and her thoughts raced to her husband back in the village, and how devastated he would be if she was not to give him a healthy son like he had been told by the gods.

Could the gods be mistaken?

Was that possible?

The sound of a twig snapping over the moist grounds behind her had her twirl around with her breath stuck in her throat. But when her eyes fell upon a couple of dark circled ones, she quickly relaxed again, and she turned away from Floki's glare with blushing cheeks.

She had never been very close with Floki, and the thought of how tight she had hugged him before when awaking from her dream made her feel slightly awkward being alone with him all of a sudden.

However, she did not ask him why he had followed her.

A long moment of silence hovered between them, before she sensed his presence right next to her, and she turned her head to look at him out of the corners of her eyes. He was staring at her with a strange expression over his face. Attentive.

"This ash tree you saw in your dream," Floki's voice suddenly rustled into her ear, causing her to feel slightly dizzy, "it was here, in this forest?"

Frida felt her eyes turning to the small path leading away from the house, and she nodded. "Yeah, it was just up that path there. Not far."

She heard Floki breathe out a small puff of air as his eyes too turned to the path in front of them. Frida felt his air dance vibrantly around him, and she saw him take a step forward, before their eyes met once more.

"Would you care to show me?" he asked her in a slow hissing rasp, his eyes shining at her from behind dark circles.

She noticed how he clenched his fists tight around the strap of his small leather purse that hung loosely over his torso, and she could not help but to raise her brows at him. "Why?" she asked in a blunt voice.

The air between them was dry and warm. The late summer was very gentle this year.

Floki answered her with a hiss, and turned his eyes away from her again in an angry movement. A long moment prevailed between them without any of them uttering even a sound, and Frida dared to take a step closer to him, narrowing her eyes at him as she finally spoke: "I will, if you tell me why you wish to see it."

The tree was further away than Frida remembered. Even though she recognized the trees and bushes that they were passing from her dream, she could not really tell how far they had to continue on walking to reach it.

The forest had grown darker now, and above the leafy crowns that hovered over them the sky was turning golden red, as if the sky was bleeding over the trees, causing a strange light to gleam mysteriously in the surrounding forestry. Frida felt Floki's eyes on her back as they slowly walked along the waving path that unfolded before them, and she felt herself wishing that she had not agreed to go.

If she was not successful in finding the tree again, she was not sure how Floki was going to react.

He seemed too certain that they were going to lay their eyes upon the huge ash tree she had come across in her dream, too vivid and intense in his air for someone who might not see the giant Yggdrasil spoken of in the Sagas. For a realization was staring to grow in the back of Frida's mind that her dreamy vision might have been nothing more but just a dream, while both Floki and Helga had been certain that the gods had shown it to her for a reason.

As soon as Frida stopped in her tracks on the path, Floki stopped too.

She heard him breathing out behind her, and she dared not to look around to see the disappointment wash over his face. "I don't think it's here," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, "it must have been a mere creation of my imagination, nothing more."

She heard Floki snicker behind her. "From a word to a word I was led to a word. From a work to a work I was led to a work."

Frida had no idea what his words meant, but she could feel him reaching up his hand to guide her along the oncoming path before her. Floki had urged her to take him, almost forced her to do so, when he had told her of the stories of the giant tree named Yggdrasil.

According to the Sagas, it was the tree of life and death, the connector of the nine worlds, the trunk by which the entire essence of life sprouted from. And it was from this tree that Odin had hung himself in his curious search for answers of what comes with the arrival of death.

Frida could still remember the piercing blue stares of the biting serpent in her dream, and she slowly developed the idea that this serpent might have stolen Odin's other eye from one of his ravens. They looked so alike…

A sudden movement between the shrubberies to her right had Frida turn sharp to stare into a couple of small brown eyes that followed the couple as they moved down the path.

"There!" she exclaimed in a surprised yelp, pointing with her finger at the bush, "It's the squirrel from my dream!"

Floki hurriedly ran to the gooseberry bush, and he crouched down with a focused look on his face, listening carefully to the immediate sounds of the forest. He could hear something that Frida could not, and he suddenly sprang into a run, waving his hand at her for her to follow up as he silently raced along the path before them.

Frida could not keep up, not even the slightest, as the weight of her big stomach made her legs slightly wobbly. But she moved as fast as she could, with her eyes on the small and thin braiding that hung down from Floki's neck moving side to side with his jogging movements.

Red and green flew past the couple as they moved through the thick forestry, but it was not long before Frida sensed the changing light of a clearance further up ahead, and she slowed down.

Out of breath, she pointed her finger at the gladding* clearing, and she urged him to move forward without her, as she rested herself against the trunk of an oak tree, heaving the dry summer air in and out of her aching lungs. It felt like the child inside her was so big that it pressed her lungs, denying her to breathe fully.

Something warm had started to build in the pits of her stomach.

Frida was surprised when she looked up to see Floki right in front of her, staring at her with big eyes. A strange expression had flushed over his face, an expression that Frida had never really seen prevail on Floki's features before. Awe was obvious in the light that shone from his eyes, a weird sense of protection dancing around his air as he reached up his hand to support her weight.

"Please, Frida. Ratatosk* will not show me the truth without you," he whispered in a hissing rasp, his hands tender on the small of her back as he urged her to follow him.

And she knew that he was speaking the truth. She could feel it in the warmth that still pressed in her pelvis, stronger and stronger, and she forced herself to keep on going, out of breath and lightheaded.

When Floki and Frida finally broke through the shrubbery that was the edge of the meadow, she found peace.

There, right in front of them, from the moist mossy earth grew the majestic tree that she had seen in her dream, the trunk enormous and powerful and the blossoming crown like the king of the forest, broad and overshadowing, only letting small glimmers of light dance on the twinkling earth of the meadow.

Purple and yellow flowers blossomed heavily between the tall dancing grass that covered the earth below it, and Frida could not tear her eyes away from the tree even if she wanted to as she took another step closer to it.

She noticed that between the broad branches of the crown several antlers appeared, and she heard herself breathing out in awe as she realized that four stags sat up there, munching heavily on the green leaves of the crown of the tree.

She had almost forgot that Floki was with her as she stood there, taking in the beautiful sight of the Yggdrasil of her dreams, but she tore her eyes away from it when she heard him breathing out a devilish chuckle. But she did not understand the strange look that was on Floki's face as she watched him look at the tree.

It was a look of… mischief?

"This tree is not Yggdrasil, Frida," he smiled in a whisper, shaking his head lightly.

Frida furrowed her brows as she turned her eyes to the tree once more. She could not believe what he was saying.

"But look," she pressed, "its branches reach up to the sky, its roots are but serpents, and up there in the crown…"

She had started to walk closer with her eyes focused on the ground right before the trunk of the tree. She could see how the serpents twisted and turned there, but she was looking for something special. If she could but show Floki the blue piercing eyes of the serpent that had bit her in her dream, she knew that Floki would realize that this was the tree from where the All-father had hung himself.

The hissing sounds of the serpents were deafening the closer she came to the tree, but her eyes caught the glimpse of something golden in between the slithering tales of the snakes, one single rune prevailing between the darkness.

It was the ansuz, the rune of Odin. The first rune she had learned to read.

Frida giggled when she felt warmth explode in her stomach and spread down her legs. "You see, Floki? Then, I was fertilized and became wise. I truly grew and thrived.*"

She spoke words that she knew not, and when she turned around to have her eyes catch his, she almost stumbled backwards.

He had finally opened his eyes to the truth, she could see it in the light that now shone from his widened eyes. He appeared surprised, yet full of awe, frightened almost. Like how the Saxons feared their god.

"Freyja?" he whispered, taking a step closer to her.

Frida furrowed her brows as yet another hot wave travelled from her stomach and shot down her legs. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, as if trying to escape her body all together. Frida shook her head, and pointed to the tree, but when she wanted to speak out, to tell him that it was indeed Odin that this tree resembled, nothing came out.

"I hail you, Vanadís*," Floki whispered in a loving breath, silent yet powerful, his eyes shining with a godly light as he took another step closer to her.

When another warm wave flushed over Frida's body, she looked down only to see that her clothes were of a different color than they had been before. They were a bright red, the most beautifully colored garment she had ever laid her eyes upon.

They were red like… blood?

Confusion flushed over Frida immediately, and she suddenly realized that the warm waves that had flushed over her were not godly waves. They were waves of pain, waves of blood.

Her water had broke.

Her child was coming.

* * *

 ***This word has its roots in another Old Norse word: glathr (which means 'bright, joyous'), and in Old English it meant 'bright, shining.'**

 ***Ratatosk: the small squirrel that is said to travel up and down the trunk of Yggdrasil, bringing news from the roots to the crown. Am I the only one thinking that the name of the Pokémon Rattata is inspired by this creature?**

 ***Words of Odin himself: "Then I was fertilized and became wise. I truly grew and thrived. From a word to a word I was led to a word. From a work to a work I was led to a work." (he speaks these words when he learns to read and write in runes after having committed suicide).**

 ***Vanadís: another name for Freyja (the dís of the vanirs) meaning the beautiful god.**

 **By the way, I kind of picture the forest around Kattegat to look like this: You Tube ***** **/watch?v=5ZZYdkt9UaY**


	57. Chapter 57

**Hello beautiful people. So I recieved some reviews urging me to continue ASAP, so here you go :D I had the time to finish another chapter, and then I thought "why not?" ;)**

 **I hope you enjoy! Skål!**

* * *

*In Denmark I was born, I belong here,  
here I am rooted, from here my world starts.  
Oh Danish language, you are the tongue of my mother,  
so sweetly blessed you reach my heart.  
Oh Danish, brisk beaches,  
with nests of wild swans,  
in green isles, the home of my heart is here!  
I love you! Denmark, my fatherland.*

Wild images flashing.

Shields drenched in blood. The heads of Saxon kings. Lush hills covered in dark green moss. A Viking standing on the hilltop alone, his legs crumbled but his head high. A white shirt spotted with red stains. The axe over the sword. Odin with his foot on the chest of Christ. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

The sons will avenge the death of his father.

...

Before she could even open her eyes, Frida smelled the lovely fragrance of a newborn child. Its sweetness and innocence filled her nostrils as she finally breathed in fully for the first time in what seemed like ages, but she found herself furrowing her brows when the sweet perfume was accompanied by the smell of smoke, of dust and burning candles, of cooked meat and charred wooden logs.

When she forced her heavy eyelids open, she was not met by a green view of the forest like she had expected.

Instead, she found herself staring into a wooden loft. The wooden loft of her bedroom.

She made an eager attempt to sit up straight in the bed, but a sharp pain shooting from her pelvis had her exhaling a strained whimper, and she quickly let herself fall back to the soft covers of her bed.

She let her eyes scan the bedroom, and she was surprised to see that it was empty.

Ragnar was not there, no child of hers was sitting and waiting for his or her mother to wake up, not even a single servant there ready to greet her. Frida let her eyes travel to the small wooden stump of a table that stood by her bedside, and she realized that she might have been unconscious for quite a while.

Small bundles of different flowers that had already begun to whither were gathered there, she recognized some of them to be Freyja's hair, while several wooden figures and bones carved with runes were spread between the flowers. On top of some of the flowery bundles she noticed a small golden necklace that held a sharp tooth in it at the end, and she barely managed to reach her arm over to grab it.

She was very weak, and her mouth was completely dried out, but despite that, she inspected the tooth of the necklace.

It seemed to have belonged to a beast of prey, a dog of some sort… Her eyes widened.

"Freke," she croaked in an inaudible whisper, and she immediately reached her hand up to grab at her throat. It was as dry as sand on a hot summer's day, and she sensed how a throbbing head ache started to pound over her forehead as she inspected the wolf tooth in the necklace. It was very delicate, beautiful and raw there in the palm of her hand, and she felt her heart starting to work harder to keep her body awake, her senses already weakened heavily merely by her efforts of looking around.

She did however hear some noise starting to sound from outside her bedroom door, and soon she recognized a desperate scratching on the door to her bedroom, which was opened almost immediately only to reveal a large silvery fur shooting over to greet her with a wet and slimy tongue that washed some of the sleep out of her eyes, followed by a wicked smell of rotten meat to sneak into her nostrils.

Frida could not help but to giggle out in her croaking voice by the wolf's reaction to her waking up, and she strained herself to reach her hand up and pat its furry head slowly.

"Good boy," she whispered to him as his silver light eyes travelled to hers, and she felt her heart warm when she noticed the attentiveness of his ears and tail.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Frida noticed someone else moving behind the big wolf that had jumped up on the bed, and she stretched her neck to see whether it was Ragnar who had come to see her.

But she was surprised when she laid her eyes upon a couple of dark circled ones, Floki staring at her with alertness shining from his eyes that otherwise seemed tired and worn.

She could not help but to smile widely as she was genuinely happy to see the tall Norseman again. Floki hissed out a nervous giggle, and he narrowed his eyes at her, a small smile curling one side of his mouth.

"Welcome back, queen Frida," he breathed as he took a step closer to her, his fingers twisting strangely in front of him, "I will let Ragnar know that you are awake."

He immediately turned on his heel to exit the bedroom, but Frida finally managed to sit up in the bed, urging Freke to lie down beside her.

"Wait!" she blurted out, reaching up her hand to have it hang awkwardly in the air between them.

She stared at him with widened eyes. "What happened?" she whispered.

Floki turned his head to look over his shoulder, another crooked smile curling the corner of his mouth. "You gave birth in front of the gods. When I took you here, Freyja had already honored you and Ragnar with her gifts."

Frida sank hard, but there was not much to swallow, and she bit her lower lip, furrowing her brows slightly at the man in front of her. She did not know what to say.

"Thank you, Floki," was the only thing she could come up with.

And that was enough. Floki bowed his head in a quick movement before disappearing behind the bedroom door. She tried to remember something, anything from the day she had given birth to her and Ragnar's child, but she could not remember anything else but seeing the giant Yggdrasil and then… darkness.

Darkness filled with flashing images of something she had not seen before with her own eyes. The image of a white shirt flashing by before her eyes was the thing she remembered the best. She did not know what it meant, however, before she could start straining her mind to evoke something more that could help her understand, Ragnar appeared in the door.

Frida immediately felt her heart beat rise, warmth pulsating quickly through her veins as she took in the sight of him there, smiling lovingly at her with tenderness so obvious in his blue crystals that she felt like melting away right there in the bed.

But when her eyes travelled down to see what he was holding in her arms, her heart almost gave in.

She gasped out in surprise.

There, in the arms of her husband, sat not one but two healthy looking newborns, both of them piercing her with ocean blue eyes from behind the soft cloths wrapped around their small bodies.

Frida felt like fainting.

Ragnar chuckled sweetly at her as he walked closer to her, closing the distance between them, while he planted small kisses on each of the newborns' heads. The faces of the two children were very similar, almost terrifyingly identical, and she furrowed her brows at her husband as he sat down next to her on the bed.

Frida stared at the two children in his arms, and she could not seem to gather her thoughts as to speak, to say something, anything. She was speechless.

"You can't imagine how impatient I have been for you to wake up, love," Ragnar soothed in a calm raspy voice, hugging his arms tighter around the two newborns.

Frida simply stared at him with big eyes. She could not even remember how to breathe properly.

She heard Ragnar chuckle lightly.

"See how you spoil me?" he continued in his tender voice, "I am the luckiest man alive."

Frida felt something warm travel down her cheeks, and she felt her lips stretch into a wide smile as she looked at the soft and round cheeks of the children in Ragnar's arms. They were hers. Both of them.

She tried to open her mouth but she was still at a loss for words.

How does one respond to something as marvelous and unthinkable like this?

Ragnar continued, knowing how hard it would have to be for her to comprehend: "I want you to meet our two boys, Ragnvald and Halfdan. I already named them. I hope you don't mind?"

Frida heard herself sobbing out, as she reached her weak hand up to stroke her thumb over the cheeks of both of the small boys in Ragnar's arms. One of them seemed to be smiling already.

She could not believe how she was not dead. How all three of them had survived.

This was definitely a work of the gods. This was impossible in England.

"Ragnvald and Halfdan," Frida finally whispered in a small breath with tears streaming down her face and a light head as she looked at the beauty that was her two sons.

Twins.

Identical boys that looked exactly like their father. They were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life.

"Which one is which?" she asked as she cupped both of their heads with her hands.

Ragnar barked out a loving laugh and urged her to take one of them. "Beats me," he chuckled as she reached up to take one of the boys and hug him tight, "but Floki made them necklaces so we can tell them apart. He has been very helpful in the last couple of weeks. I don't think I would have managed this by myself."

Frida stared at Ragnar with widened eyes. "Weeks?"

A quick note of pain flashed over his eyes as he looked down to the boy in his arms, and he nodded slowly. "Yes, you have been still for a long time. But I always knew that you would wake up again. I felt it in my heart, the gods told me the same day that you brought these two wonders to the world."

Frida let her eyes fall to the little man in her arms, and she reached her hand up to nudge the cloth wrapped around him away to reveal a small leather necklace that held the smallest wooden figure she had ever seen in her life.

It represented a tree, and Frida could not help but to smile widely as she realized it must have been made by Floki. No one else in Kattegat was this skilled at the art of wood carving but him.

She sensed Ragnar looking at the figure as well.

"I named that one Halfdan*," he soothed, "it means half Dane."

Frida looked into the eyes of her son Halfdan, and she felt her heart explode with warmth and love inside her chest.

"And this one here I named Ragnvald. He carries the symbol of a raven."

Frida whimpered out something between a sob and a chuckle. "Halfdan and Ragnvald Ragnarsson. I love you both with all my heart. You will grow to be strong men just like your father."

* * *

 *** In Denmark I was born: A beautiful poem written by H.C. Andersen (1850), whom you might know ;) (In Danish: "I Danmark er jeg født") If you are interested, there is a very beautiful (and modern) version of it by the front singer of Outlandish Isam B. on You Tube: *** /watch?v=mIh_ZGlyc3s**  
 **I love this version, not only because he is a reeeeally good singer, but because his parents are from Morocco. And I just love the fact that he considers Denmark to be his native country (he was born here) even though his parents are from another country.**

 *** Fatherland: I know that it is weird to say this in English, because you would probably say "mother country." But we always say "fædreland" (fathers' land) in Danish, so I translated it to this.**

 ***Halfdan: yeah… So I wanted to name him Halfdan mainly because he is said to be the son of Ragnar in history, but I also know that this was the real name of Hvitserk: Halfdan 'Hvitserk' (white shirt – a nickname like Ironside) Ragnarsson.  
But I really liked it because Halfdan means 'half Dane,' so it just fit perfectly, and now that the series have not used his real name, then. Yeah. I hope you don't mind :) **

**What do you think?**


	58. Chapter 58

**Hey guys. I don't really want to say too much before digging ito this one.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Skål!**

* * *

It was a very bright day.

The sun was shining from above a heavy layer of white thick clouds, unable to burn through them even as midday had passed. The people of Kattegat were all working hard to keep up with the fall coming to an end. They were in the fields harvesting whatever was left of this year's growth, gathering the animals and preparing their barns for winter, and scavenging the surrounding forest for berries, mushrooms, wild vegetables and eggs, all preparing themselves for the oncoming frost.

It was obvious in the air.

A white fog had started to roll in from the sea, a cool breeze oozing over them, curling around the cottages of Kattegat and embracing them with a white, mysterious mist. And the trees had grown still. As if they too had retrieved to some work of their own, the colors of their leaves turning paler with each second that passed by, turning the forest dark.

Dead.

Big groups of birds that only looked like black spots in the distance snaked their way over the sky, and it gave him the sensation that something was going on somewhere far away, something eerie creeping slowly towards them with the wind bearing winter.

The birds were leaving. He snorted.

Narrowing his eyes at the black line far out in the horizon, he wondered how this line that separated the earth from the sky would always appear so straight, as if there was nothing out there but lengths and lengths of water. But he knew that this was a work of one of the gods, the sly one, who had secretively hidden the Midgård Serpent for the normal eye to see in hopes of luring them there to see how they would handle the giant serpent.

He made another snorting sound.

But no one here around him would listen to him even if he tried to express his fear of sailing too far away. They would call him a coward. There were many things you could call him, but he was not a coward.

So he made the choice of keeping his mouth tight when they were going on raids.

The sound of a door opening behind him had him turn his head and squint his eyes up at Ragnar that approached him slowly on the bench terrace where he was sitting, a worried furrow carved over his forehead, tired blurry eyes. He smelled like ale.

"You know how much I appreciate you being here, friend. But don't feel forced to stay," Ragnar spoke in hushed words, while running his hand over his head.

His anxiety was so obvious, so very present on his every feature, movement and thought, Ragnar was worried that Frida might die.

He turned his eyes back to the black line of the sea, murmuring slowly as he curled his lips: "I know that I don't have to stay, Ragnar. But I want to wait. Just a little longer."

He could hear Ragnar taking a few steps closer, and he turned his head to squint his eyes at his dear friend, their eyes connecting for a short moment before he turned his back to the line.

Ragnar struggled with the question that he knew was coming.

He could always sense when Ragnar wanted something from him. It always made him feel a little excited, powerful. He snorted.

"What…" Ragnar started, his words short and rushed, his faith weak and disturbed.

The king continued: "How long do you think will pass, Floki?"

He turned his head to look at his dear friend as he crouched down to his knees besides him, his right hand suddenly weighing down over his shoulder, and he narrowed his eyes at his friend. He was a defeated man.

Floki hoped Frida would wake soon.

Ragnar was weakened by her stillness, by her ongoing sleep. And Floki hated waiting too.

A big voice inside of him told him that he was a fool to still sit here at the longhouse, waiting pathetically for another man's wife to wake up. And he had often left the house in the darkest of nights to return home to his daughter and wife at the other side of the fjord, but…

He could not. Something held him there.

It was the same thing that had told him to follow Frida when she had left him and Helga by the fire several weeks ago.

He had to stay. The gods always told him so.

The first night he had tried to leave, he had seen a sign in the flames of the fire place in the long-hall. He had had god's food, that was certain, but he knew that he had to stay there, protect her from the dark shadows. And so he had carved many runes for Frida.

Frida and her two newborn sons.

He could see that there were a lot of people who stared at him, long stares, wondering why he was still there. But he did not mind them. He spent a lot of his time thinking about the gods. He felt her presence so strongly when he closed his eyes, he dared not sleep because of her strong aura.

Freyja was there, every night, caring for the sleeping queen in the king bedroom of the longhouse.

And when Floki closed his eyes, she would send stares in his direction, awakening something strange inside of him, something he had not felt in a while. It reminded him of Helga.

Of how strong she was, and how caring. How much she loved him. And how he loved her.

And how foolish he was to have married her. She was going to lose him someday. He had let her fall in love with him, as he so desperately wanted her heart to warm his, and now they were married and had a small beautiful daughter. She was going to lose her father. He snorted.

"She will wake soon. I can feel it," Floki smiled to his friend, who raised his eyes at him, a little light of hope starting to spark weakly in his dark blue eyes.

Ragnar sent him a half smile, an unfaithful kind of curl of the corner of his mouth, an attempt to say thank you.

Floki nodded.

Ragnar rose to his feet again, and he reached out a hand for Floki to grab. "Come, friend. Let's eat."

And not had he just sat down at the table with a plate filled with food when he felt it.

Her breath.

His eyes flew to the wolf at one of the wooden thrones in the long-hall, and when it lifted its head and raised its ears, he rose to his feet. He broke into a run, jumping over a bench in his eager, turning around the corner to continue into the hallway.

Freke was scratching on the bedroom door.

 _She must be awake._

He opened the door to let the wolf enter, and he peeped in through the crack of the slightly opened door, something cool washing over him when he saw that she was finally awake.

He thought about going back to tell Ragnar, but he hesitated.

Why did he hesitate?

He took a step closer to the door, and closed his eyes for a brief moment. He still felt her presence.

He was almost too intimidated to walk in there.

A god was there. Watching.

He entered the room with light steps, and it was not long until he felt her eyes upon him. Something strange travelled over her eyes when she looked at him, and he wanted to know what it was.

But he spoke fast. He felt strange with Freyja's eyes on him.

"Welcome back, queen Frida. I will let Ragnar know that you are awake."

He saw how her face softened, and he quickly turned around to escape the eyes. Those green eyes.

"Wait!" he heard Frida exclaim behind him, which stopped him in his track, that odd thing holding him back once more.

"What happened?" she asked in a fragile voice, sending Floki straight back to the time where he had carried her desperately through the woods to the boat at his house, rowing manically back to the village and into the care of her husband. But what he remembered the most was seeing the goddess so alive and breathing in front of him, as if she had melted herself into Frida's being, he would swear they were one.

And not long after he had laid her on her bed, a long and painful cry was heard even in the far corners of the long-hall, two healthy boys escaping her womb. And Floki had not believed his eyes.

Not one of them died.

He knew he had to protect them, at least for as long as she was recovering herself from the heavy work of bringing not one but two sons to the world in one day. He sent her a small smile.

"You gave birth in front of the gods. When I took you here, Freyja had already honored you and Ragnar with her gifts."

He narrowed his eyes at her for a short moment, and he could sense her mind travelling wildly. "Thank you, Floki," she breathed in her thin voice, her thin and pale face smiling at him feebly, her sincerity obvious in her eyes.

He bowed his head at her, and he knew his work was finished.

Now he could finally return to his wife and daughter. He closed his eyes and thanked the gods.

He got a feeling that these two boys would grow to do big things. He snorted.

Of course they would. Ragnar was a big man, and his blood had a blue stain.

Floki narrowed his eyes as he stalked into the long-hall. "She is awake."

* * *

 **What did you think, what did you think, what did you think? :D**


	59. Chapter 59

**Hi guys! I know it's been a while, but here's the next chapter of Frida :)**

 **I'm going on spring break soon (or "Påskeferie" - 'easter holiday' - as we call it in Denmark), so I'll be able to post some more chapters in the coming week. I hope you're still with me?**

 **Enjoy! Skål!**

* * *

The morning had been very normal, calm, for Ragnar and his sons, as they had passed their time practicing out in the newly prepared fighting pits of the village, where the smell of the wetted wooden splinters that had been spread to soften the eventual falls of the many men that spent their time training their fighting techniques there filled their noses as Ragnar and his sons were practicing.

The ground was hardening beneath them, slowly, and he looked into the sky for a brief moment, enjoying what must be the last rays of this year's late summer sun.

The sun that would rise tomorrow would be a cruel sun. A bleak one, he could tell by the images in the sky.

Blurred clouds hang in clutches above them, searchingly, and the night was coming quicker. The days would be shorter soon. He felt something so foreboding in the colors of the sky, but he was confused by them.

What were they trying to tell him?

"Father, come on!" Ubbe yelled from behind him, and he soon felt a sword tapping on his shield.

He tightened his grip around it, feeling a small pain shoot from one of his knuckles. Why did that hurt?

He narrowed his eyes at Ubbe.

He was getting old, wasn't he?

Ragnar widened his eyes wildly and hurled himself forward with a loud scream growling from his jaws, he launched his axe forward and stopped only inches from Ubbe's skull.

The boy stood still. Ragnar straightened himself and rustled Ubbe's short golden hair, squinting his eye at him before turning to Bjørn.

Bjørn. He was finally back, he was finally home. And yet, he seemed so different. Ragnar did know that he had been through a lot of rough patches in his fight for survival. And Ragnar only knew part of it, he could tell easily from the long stares his first-borne son would suddenly escape into, a distant reality where some invisible images flashed before his eyes. Images that Ragnar did not know of.

And maybe he would never get to know them. Bjørn was the one who would decide that.

"I have to head back," Ragnar breathed to the tall blonde before him, reaching up his hand to nudge the broad shoulder of his son, "I expect you can handle them, yeah?"

Bjørn furrowed his eyebrows slightly before he nodded.

Ragnar repeated the motion, and he slowly started walking back towards the village. He readily untied one of the horses and quickly rose to its back before urging back to the longhouse. He had this sensation. This weird tingling sensation.

Something was up. Something was coming.

He did not know what.

His grey horse took him to the longhouse in a short matter of time, and he rushed into the long-hall, his shoulders broadened as he entered his home, his eyes glaring wildly around, scanning for anything peculiar. But everything was normal.

He exhaled a big breath and stroked the side of his head with his hand. He noticed Athelstan strolling along one of the walls of the long-hall, casually, as if in his own world, his mind wandering just like his legs.

Their eyes soon met, and Athelstan immediately stopped in his tracks.

His stare was strange. Worried. Ragnar gulped down.

"What's wrong?" Athelstan asked as he walked closer to him, and Ragnar felt a concerned hand on his shoulder as his eyes turned to his best friend's grey eyes.

He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "Nothing, apparently."

Ragnar heard Athelstan exhaling a long breath, and he turned his eyes back to his friend, narrowing his eyes at him. He actually seemed very off somehow, off just like Ragnar himself.

"Have you noticed anything strange around here?" Ragnar asked.

A short moment of silence passed between them, and Athelstan shrugged his shoulders. "No, I don't know. I, uh…"

The sound of an owl crying somewhere outside made them both look at the door leading out of the long-hall. Athelstan's body jerked slightly towards the sound, causing Ragnar to be the one leaving a concerned hand over the shoulder of his friend, and he starred at his face, hard. He knew something.

Athelstan exhaled a surrendering breath as he nodded towards the door. "I had some sort of vision before, when I… I saw someone I have not thought about for very long when I looked out at the forest earlier today."

Ragnar felt his heart starting to pump harder in his chest, the tingling sensation from before returning with greater force.

"Who?" he asked in a quick breath, impolitely. It seemed like a very personal matter, but he and Athelstan had had many talks like these before, before, when Ragnar was not king and had more time to think about life. Life and death, and everything in between.

Athelstan's face twisted into something unfamiliar and strange, he looked embarrassed almost, as he shrugged his shoulders again with a faint blush over his cheeks. "I saw… I think I saw the mother of Christ."

Ragnar furrowed his brows. "The virgin woman?"

Athelstan nodded, and Ragnar narrowed his eyes at him. He noticed that Athelstan shivered greatly.

He seemed so out of himself. "Where?" Ragnar pressed, wondering that maybe she was the cause of the strange cautioning feeling he had felt before. But that could not be.

The virgin mother was not real to him. Right?

Athelstan took him outside, and Ragnar followed him as he turned around the corner of the longhouse. The same owl they had heard before cried once more as Athelstan came to a halt, and Ragnar stared at the spot his friend pointed to, at the forest that was the edge of the village.

His shoulders sank.

It was just the forest. Nothing unusual came to view, no sensation spread from his heart. It was just… the dark trees, appearing the same as always.

He felt Athelstan's eyes on him. "I can't stop thinking about her," he uttered, causing Ragnar to look at his friend with worried eyes.

He had not spoken about his god for a long time. Ragnar had actually thought he had forgotten about him all together. He felt something uncomfortable drip down his spine, as he spoke: "Did she speak to you?"

He looked around thoughtlessly, as if checking if anyone was listening to their conversation. He did not know why.

Athelstan let another heavy breath escape his lungs. "No, she was just standing there. She looked so…" His words died out.

"Ragnar, who is that?"

Just a bit to the right of the forest, a small boat appeared.

Ragnar felt his heart racing once more when he realized that it was Floki's boat, and he narrowed his eyes when he noticed its speed. Floki rarely rowed so fast. "Floki?" he whispered, and his legs automatically started walking in the direction of the harbor.

Athelstan followed him closely.

"Who's with him?" he asked.

But they soon heard her screams.

Frida's screams.

A wave of realization followed by horror washed over Ragnar as he broke into a run. This was what the gods had tried to tell him. This was the thing that was coming. Her screams were so loud, so wild and horrific, he had never heard her voice like this before.

And it scared him.

What had happened to her?

He reached the harbor at the same time as Floki, and the air was constantly filled by the agonizing screams of his wife. As he rushed forward, he watched as Floki carried Frida over the bridge, and his eyes widened in fear when he noticed all of the blood that had darkened her dress.

She was… in labor?

His mind exploded. Already?

Ragnar reached out his hands to take her, when he reached them on the bridge, but a loud hissing gnarl from Floki made him freeze. Floki's eyes were hard, wild, his face sweaty and twisted, and he forcefully carried on past Ragnar, whose mind and body was now paralyzed. What the Hel?*

Ragnar let out a growl as he was finally able to move again.

Floki's back was covered in sweat, his clothes covered by blood. Frida's screams caused a lot of villagers to peek out from their cottages, and Ragnar felt their stares on him as he ran after them, and he knew they were wondering the same thing as him.

Why was he not the one to carry his wife to their home?

Irritation and frustration washed over him as he followed Floki and Frida into the longhouse, but he could not waste his time on dealing with Floki's weird behavior right now.

He angrily shouted orders for his servants to help him, to help her, before he ran for the bedroom from where Frida's screams were still loud and clear. His heart was pumping hard, his mind racing.

Her screams cut into his flesh like daggers, like he could feel her pain himself, but just as he pushed the door opened to the bedroom, silence spread over the entire village.

And when he looked at the redness of their bed, he felt his knees giving in.

There, between Frida's legs, were not one but two bloody creatures.

He stared at them while panic travelled over his entire being, and he heard two different small and fragile cries in his ears as he fell to the floor. Floki was crouched over them, and Ragnar heard him whispering repeatedly out over them, but he could not tell what he was saying.

His mind was too wicked to comprehend anything as he simply stared at his silent wife and their two newborns.

Servants flew past him with clean water and clothes as his world seemed to fall before him.

Two…

He felt someone pulling at his shoulders, but he was paralyzed on his knees. She was so silent. Too silent.

When Floki's bloody face appeared before him, blocking his view of the two newborns between Frida's legs, he was finally able to move again, a dead breath escaping his lungs instantly. He felt like vomiting.

"You need to bite the cords," Ragnar heard Floki hissing at him, before he was pulled to his feet.

Ragnar stumbled a bit on his feet. "Yes," he croaked overwhelmingly, and he let Floki steer him closer to the bed.

He could not look at her. He could not see her like this. Not yet.

And so he let his eyes cling on the two living creatures between her dead bloody legs. He felt foreign to them.

But as he bent over and skewered both of the mushy cords that they had grown from, he finally felt Freyja pouring love into his heart.

Love for his two new sons.

Oh, how he could not wait to get to know them. And when he lifted one of the newborns into his arms, he finally dared to let his eyes fall to Frida on the bed, and he immediately felt his heart cry.

She was so still and so silent. Gone.

Her prophecy was not true after all, then.

But just as he accepted that the gods had taken her with them, Floki whispered something into his ears that made him sob loudly.

"Freyja will heal her. She told me herself."

* * *

 *** Hel: Ever wondered why the Christian "hell" and the Asatru "Hel" are so alike? I know I have. I wonder whether the Christians took the idea of hell (Helheim) from the Nordic faith back then. It seems kinda weird that these names are so alike, otherwise. I found this page, when doing a quick search for answers: questions/51136/etymology-of-hell-possible-link-to-norse-mythology**

 **I actually don't really like this chapter... I don't know why. But I hope it's not too dissapointing for you guys, I promise to develope the plot in the next chapter. The reason I did a Ragnar chapter was because one of you urged me to do so. So I hope it's okay :D**


	60. Chapter 60

**Hi guys. I really hope you enjoy my 60th chapter of Frida! I celebrate with a bit of smut, but I try not to be too explicit so I don't scare you off ;) Remember to leave me a review and tell me what you think :)**

 **Enjoy! Skål!**

* * *

"Loki can transform himself into a horse, and on light hooves he leaps over grasslands and beach.  
Fumingly, he bridles at Sigyn, lying at the bank of beach and waiting for her lover.  
But the slough will not release its hold, so she must ride him to where the earth meets the sea.  
Tiredly he drops down with her over him, and once more he becomes the god.  
Blood runs in his beard, but they both laugh, for their hearts are light from the ride.  
Beautiful Loki, even a devil like you has a wife, the loyal Sigyn.  
Sly Loki, you incite man and god for an aimless deed, but a woman loves you, and when you sneak around, she is waiting.  
Once, he was just the kind flame of the fire.  
One day he will be Udgård, the tied up giant beneath the earth. When he escapes, everything will fall.  
But now, he is the lover of Sigyn. And isn't she lovely, your woman, running on light-feet over the beach?  
Laughingly, sweet. You are so fair, my female friend.  
The twilight advances from the sea and his eyes turn into coals.  
Sigyn gasps when she sees him, but then she laughs. Loki, she jests. Does she blame the fire?  
Never. She wedded the fire. Together they disembark the land."*

...

She was finally feeling like her normal self again. Her stomach was flat again, her muscles were growing. And with every day, she pushed herself more and more. She wanted to be strong.

Alive.

Having two twin sons were very fatiguing in itself, and while feeding them both took up much of her time during the day, Frida stayed awake late in the nights, learning and practicing everything from handy fighting techniques and rules for survival to religion and history, all things she found her curiosity spire at.

She felt very different. As if the birth of her two new sons had evoked something inside of her that would change her life forever. A hope. A pride.

She felt like she knew who she was now.

Freyja had healed her completely. She had felt her hand in hers when she pushed out two new lives about a month ago. Her transformation had been so quick, so smooth, and so empowering, everyone in the village thanked the goddess when they saw their queen.

Frida knew that Ragnar felt it too. She could see it in his eyes. She could feel it when he took her to bed. A new kind of hope had sparked in his eyes too, yet another gleam from the other world had been lit in his beautiful blue crystals. These two crystals were often roaming over the two new twin sons of Ragnar Loðbrók, admiring the beauty that shone from them.

A very hopeful beauty.

Athelstan had called it a miracle. And Frida wondered if Ragnar thought the same thing, as she played with his hand in hers by the fire, a late evening on a normal Tyr's day, while she listened to him and Athelstan discuss a shieldwall strategy.

She knew that she should exert herself to understand better what they were saying, but they used many words that she did not know what meant, she had given up some time ago. But she listened peacefully to them either way, with her imagination running wild as she looked into the fire.

She liked the air that always surrounding the two of them when they had those kinds of conversations. It was an intelligent air, a vivid one, and it helped her gather her thoughts.

This strange feeling that had spired in her ever since the birth of Ragnvald and Halfdan had made her obsessed with the idea of creating something that would hold the image of the gods in them, something they would like. And she had finally figured out what she wanted to do.

She noticed the flames creeping a bit closer to her before she felt the change of air, as he stepped into the long-hall.

She felt two black coals staring at her for a brief moment before she turned her eyes to see the figures of Helga and Floki by the door. Frida locked eyes with Floki for a mere second, but she quickly tore her eyes away, as a cold chill ran down her spine, reminding her of the first time she had laid her eyes upon this man.

His stare was so intense and wicked. The eyes of a spiritual being.

Ragnar and the others around the fire in the center of the long-hall cheered when they too noticed the arrival of their friends, and Helga and Floki soon joined them in their small circle. They sat down at the other side of the fire from Frida, and she smiled widely at them as they hurled off their furs, making themselves comfortable in Frida and Ragnar's home.

Frida loved this. This feeling of community and friendship. Of family.

"It is good to see you again, my friends," Ragnar smiled as he waved his hand for one of the servants to bring them some ale. His voice was warm, and it made Frida's belly tingle.

"Indeed, welcome*," Frida cheered with her horn raised at them before she took a healthy sip.

A warm feeling spread through her veins as she downed the ale, a feeling of fire licking over her presence. She turned her eyes to Ragnar, as Helga and Floki thanked them for their hospitality, and she noticed him widening his eyes at something Floki passed to the small group around the fire, before he turned to curl his lips at her, his eyes shining wildly.

A question was tingling in the corner of his mouth, and it made her smile questioningly at him. His stare was intoxicating.

"Will you eat the food of the gods with me?" he rasped in a soft voice, causing a warm melting feeling to shoot from Frida's stomach.

Her eyes quickly turned to the small bowl that was passed around the fire, the white mushrooms shred freely between them, and she felt a little nervous tingle in her belly, as she turned her eyes back to Ragnar. His smile was smug, and it made her giggle.

"If you promise to take care of me?" she breathed shortly, a little nervous smile on her lips as she saw him take the bowl.

Athelstan had eaten a couple.

The light in Ragnar's eyes actually felt cooling as she looked at him, the sensation of fire licking over her skin still prevalent in the air around her. "Always," he soothed in a cool voice, before he filled his mouth with the white forest growths, his eyes not leaving hers.

When Ragnar reached his hand over to feed Frida some of the white mushrooms, she felt the black coals returning to her figure, and the sensation of fire licking over her grew stronger. She turned her eyes to Floki from the other side of the flames, and she saw his raise his eyebrows questioningly at her, causing her to giggle as she chewed the musky whites.

This was the first time Frida tried them.

The taste was very earthy, and she did not like it very much, so she quickly raised her horn to flush them down, her brows furrowing quickly. She heard Ragnar chucking beside her.

"Here," Ragnar breathed, and she looked down to see two more of the long white mushrooms held in front of her, and she quickly shook her head.

She heard Floki's voice over the fire, sneaking into her ears like warm flames: "It will make you see clearer."

His words were followed by a small nervous giggle, and Frida felt the weight of Ragnar's hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to, if you don't wa…"

His words died out when Frida bent over his fingers and ate the mushrooms from them. When she smiled back at him, she heard him hissing out silently, and he changed position in his chair. He ran his hand along his beard and sent her widened eyes, causing her to giggle out.

She felt his hand travelling from her shoulder to the small of her back before returning back to her neck, cupping her head with strong fingers as he leaned over to plant a hard kiss on her cheekbone.

He passed the bowl on as he was leaning in over her, and she felt her cheeks blushing from the small fire that had started to burn from the pits of her stomach. But this fire was soon followed by another sensation, a flowing and funnily slow sensation shooting out through her veins.

It tickled like water running alongside her blood, and she leaned back in her chair, feeling Ragnar's arm hugging her close to him. His musky smell filled her nostrils and calmed her a little bit. The smoke from the fire danced lightly around in the air between them, and she closed her eyes.

She felt the change inside her slowly prevailing more and more. Her cheeks were soon on fire, and her eyes felt slow.

She let them swim over to the fire, but it was as if they could not really focus on anything in particular, as if they were just observing but not looking. She heard herself giggle. The air in the long-hall was very warm, filled with laughter and chatter from the late guests.

Frida leaned back in her chair and rested her neck along the wooden back rest, letting her eyes stare into the wooden loft above them. She saw a raven up there, staring down upon her.

And she smiled.

She knew that they were not alone. She knew that a god was among them, but she did not know who it was. But the fire that was traveling over her skin, the heating sensation that constantly burned her dried out throat told her that a couple of warm eyes were watching them in this very moment.

She felt excited, thrilled, and she smiled widely as she looked at the raven. It looked like it had three eyes, but she must have been mistaken.

"Are you okay, my love?" Ragnar's voice suddenly snaked into her ear, and she felt herself opening her eyes, breathing in a late breath.

When had she closed her eyes?

Frida felt a light tingling still running through her veins, shooting out from her nerves and muscles, bubbling lightly in her stomach. "Yes," she smiled as she sat up straight in her chair, her eyes traveling around the men and women around the fire.

Frida's eyes locked with a couple of unfamiliar ones, two dark ones, in the skull of a man sitting behind Floki and Helga. They were black like coal, and he stared at her, freezing her motionless in her chair as she took in the sight of him.

He was a very large man, with long dark hair that looked silky soft, falling over his broad shoulders in curves. His eyebrows were thick, while his beard looked sharp in the light of the fire, framing his stunning facial features beautifully.

Frida heard herself inhaling sharply.

He was dressed in beautiful ropes, a leathery armor covered in silver rings across his chest, and broad iron patches covering his shoulders. Dark ropes hung from them. She narrowed his eyes at them to see what the symbol in them was, but he was too far away for her to see.

She saw him chuckling at her, but the sound never reached her ear.

She blinked a couple of times. She had never seen this man before in her life, and yet, he was sitting there, smiling at her as if they had done it a thousand times before. She tilted her head at him, and bent slightly forward.

Their eyes were still locked.

The man suddenly opened his mouth and whispered, slow and silent words that rang loudly for her ears, burning her like flames: "Thirsty I came to the hall, and a long way I have wandered. To the Asir I beg for one to grant me, if you please, but a sip of your most precious mead."

Frida let her eyes travel around the group of people around the fire, and wandered why no one had questioned the presence of this man yet. But no one seemed to notice him.

No one except for Floki.

Frida saw him twitching him body slightly towards the man, letting his eyes travel secretly to the man behind him. He soon turned his eyes to look at Frida, and he giggled manically when he saw that she had noticed him too.

The man repeated his words in the same tone: "Please, Asir, I am thirsty from my long journey."

Floki turned to look at her with the same burning eyes like the strange man next to him. For a moment, she thought that she saw them switching place, but she shook her head, her veins still tingling heavily. She raised her hand.

"Thyra, could you serve us some mead, please."

A thin "Yes, my lady," sounded from behind, and Frida locked her eyes with the strange man once more.

She could sense Floki looking at him too. She did not know how to speak to him. It was as if words did not really work between them somehow. She saw Floki making a weird movement with his hand over his forehead, and she soon felt Ragnar nudging her arm lightly.

She only turned her head slightly, not wanting to break her eyes from the man. "What, love?"

"What is going on?" he asked in a deep voice.

It sent vibrations down her spine.

She smiled. "A raven has come," she stated bluntly, her eyes finding Thyra as the servant poured mead into the many drinking horns around the fire.

Floki passed the strange man a horn too, and they raised their horns at her, and she repeated the motion. The heat around the fire was unbearable, and Frida soon felt sweat pearls gather under her hair line.

Floki giggled devilishly, before all three of them drank healthy sips of the honey liquids.

And Frida felt the change of air immediately, when she lowered her horn. The heat was suddenly gone, like by the brush of a cool wind, and Frida widened her eyes to see that the man had disappeared from his place behind Helga and Floki.

The raven was no longer sitting on one of the wooden logs in the ceiling.

Frida quickly let her yes travel to Floki, and she sucked in a short breath when she saw the light in his eyes, black burning coal staring at her from behind dark circles. Frida blinked for a couple of times before she heard him hissing out.

His eyes were their normal ocean blue again.

She sighed out, and noticed a small curl on Floki's lips. She narrowed her eyes at him.

Yes, she was definitely going to ask Floki for help with her new idea.

She finally felt like they understood each other.

As the night continued, Frida felt her eyelids beginning to weigh, and she leaned her head on Ragnar's shoulder next to her, sighing out contently as she stared into the fire. It was beautiful when controlled, fire.

She saw the image of her mother flashing by for her eyes.

An arm swooped around her, and she felt Ragnar hugging her tight to him, letting her head rest against his neck.

He planted a kiss over her hair. "Will you join me in bed, love?" his voice drummed into her ear, and she closed her eyes sweetly and smiled jokingly. "Carry me."

But Ragnar did not think it was a joke, and she soon saw him rising to his feet before feeling two strong arms pulling her body upwards, her head soon hanging down over Ragnar's broad back. She laughed out in surprise as she felt one of Ragnar's hands traveling up under her dress, his fingers clenching roughly around one of her buttocks.

Frida blushed heavily.

"Excuse us, we will… retreat for tonight. Make yourselves at home, goodnight, my friends." Ragnar's words sounded serious and controlled, and Frida giggled lamely from her position over Ragnar's shoulder.

He soon started walking her to their bedrooms, and she reached up her hand to wave back at the people around the fire, causing a couple of laughs to bark from between the small group.

She felt anticipation blending in with the tingling watery sensation in her blood, and she was relieved when Ragnar finally let her down on their bed, the blood rushing back to her head and making her slightly dizzy.

She watched him stand next to the bed, simply watching her as he stood there. She started unwrapping the chest piece of her dress, pulling slowly at its bindings. The braiding Viking stared at her with a heaving chest and a visible vein pumping angrily in his right temple, and he soon started to uncover himself too in swift movements.

He still had his pants on when he crawled onto the bed, and he steered himself between his legs, and let his hands reach up to pull down the dress from her hips. She closed her eyes when the fabric left her skin, and she felt goosebumps form over her skin as the air hit it, immediately followed by Ragnar's warm and rough hands, traveling over her soft skin like hot fires.

Frida felt him place small kisses on her knees, and she sighed out sweetly, her skin blooming heavily with tingling sensations every time he touched her.

"May I taste you?" he asked in a deep voice, almost in a growl, the sound coming from deep within his chest, a warm desire burning behind it, causing wetness to explode between her legs.

Frida closed her eyes and let her legs relax into his hands, handing him the control to do as he pleased.

And while she felt her heart beating loudly into the silent bedroom, Ragnar's hands traveled to her bottom, spreading her buttocks and leaving her completely open to him. She felt herself blushing heavily into the badly lit room, but was soon surprised by the sudden feeling of a warm softness gliding over her lips down there.

She breathed out into the night when she heard him growling from between her legs, and she reached down to take a hold on his braiding. Another soft glide made her whimper.

She could almost hear the smugness on his face.

She breathed uncontrollably. He soon let his tongue rest achingly over her most sensitive spot, and she felt herself writhing beneath him. Ragnar hissed out over her wetness, and she whimpered for him to move his tongue, anything to stop the overwhelming sensation that his tongue caused.

But his tongue merely left her altogether, and she looked up to see his impatient movements in taking his pants off.

When he returned to her with eager hands, she would have expected his movements to have been rough and violent, eager and urgent, like they had been for the last couple of days. But he handled her very gently, causing her to cry out for him to never stop working her so beautifully, his body crouched over her like an animal devouring its prey, but treating her with silky touches, breathing out over her collectedly as he sent waves of pleasure over her body.

When he finally gave into his deepest desires, his thrusts became wild and rough, sending her off into another world of explosions and waves hitting rocks.

When Ragnar exploded, he stayed inside of her, digging his fingers into the soft skin of her thighs, causing her to whimper out lovingly. He had not let himself explode inside her since she gave birth to Ragnvald and Halfdan.

It is always so very easy for a woman to become pregnant right after giving birth, and Frida could sense that he was a bit overwhelmed by the twins. So he had pulled out every time, exploding over her.

But this time he had stayed.

And she felt her heart swell as he dropped down beside her on the bed, a satisfied sensation filling her entire being. As she laid there, she listened to his heavy heart beat while she staring into the ceiling.

After a moment of silence, she spoke in hushed words, whispers almost: "I think a god came and visited us today. Loki smiled at me from behind Floki's eyes. Should I be worried?"

She heard Ragnar breathing calmly beside her, and she wondered for a short moment whether he had fallen asleep.

But then he spoke in a soft voice: "I worry about him too sometimes. That is what you do with family."

Frida scooted herself closer to her husband, feeling his heat beaming off him like another fire. "You're right. Goodnight love."

* * *

 *** This is one of my favorite stories from the Sagas. I love (F)Loki and his walk on the edge between good and bad. I guess we all fight with our own bad and good sides, right?**

 *** Welcome: I don't know if this wounds very formal in English… Does it? I don't know if you use it as often as we do, but in Denmark, we typically greet our guests with a 'welcome' (or, "velkommen" as we say in Danish – the resemblance is uncanny, right?)**

 *** I listened to a very… weird song when writing the part with Floki in this chapter. I felt kinda creepy. If you'd like to listen to it, go type "Suspekt – Klam Fyr" in You Tube. You can find a translation of it on google too, but be careful. It is a very creepy song ;) Suspekt are a Danish rap group known for making very explicit and… honest songs, I guess. Go check them out, they're very popular in Denmark :)**


	61. Chapter 61

**Hey guys.**

 **Ever wondered how Danish mainstream pop music sounds like? Go to You Tube and search for** "Kato – Dumt På Dig" **or** "Nik & Jay – Endnu En". **They are both songs that are/have been very popular in Denmark over the last couple of years. Oh,** "Christopher – Copenhagen Girls" **has also been veeery popular lately. My ears have been destroyed by these songs in the radio. So if you're interested, check them out ;)**

 **Anyways, thanks for the nice reviews! I love you guys. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Skål :)**

* * *

Day times of short. Lands of white.

Winter solstice was just around the corner, and the frost had fallen over the entire village in heavy covers, hardening all surfaces with a thick embrace of ice, welcoming the yearly celebration of yule* very beautifully.

Frida had spent most of the time with the children in the long-hall. They had helped the servants put up yule decorations, mistletoes and hollies hanging down abundantly from the ceiling with red berries and curvy garlands in between, and many of the villagers had brought her and Ragnar billy goats made out of straw* as to wish them a happy winter solstice.

The goats had been placed on the snow just outside the doors leading to the longhouse with candles in glass pots as a sign of hospitality for whoever passed their way. It was a belief here in these lands that on the day of winter solstice, a man disguised as a billy goat would visit the houses with lights in them, eat and drink, and then go on to the next. And he would bring with him the word of each household's generosity and favor and pass it on to the gods, so it was important to offer your guests the best treatment you could manage on this special evening.

Frida enjoyed this time of year greatly.

Even though the outsides were stone hard and cold, unforgivable and harsh, the insides, filled with people, were warm and caring, and she could not help but to smile as she looked out over the long-hall with Halfdan at her chest, her heart swelling warmly in her core as she took in the sight of her surrounding friends and family.

Most of them were already here, even before the feast had begun.

The lovely fragrance of roasted duck lay thick in the air already, causing Freke by Frida's side to raise his ears constantly, his nose twitching along, and a line of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth. Ragnhildir was sitting next to him, playing with his silvery fur in soft movements. She was always very gentle with him, as he was with her.

Ivar was playing a game with Athelstan, while Ubbe and Hvitserk had entered the white wonderland outside with their uncle and Bjørn for a snowball fight. At the children's corner sat Helga and Lagertha, singing a song about Norwegian trolls with Angrboða and Sigurd, and over by the fire Ragnar had lain down on a wooden bench with Ragnvald on his stomach, playing with him gently by the warmth of the fire.

Around them, servants rushed to prepare for the oncoming feast, but Frida fairly did not notice them.

Only when one of them asked her a question of when to bring in the yule tree did she let her eyes travel to watch them work beside her, and she felt a slight pinch in her chest, tilting her head at the servant before her. It was a young blonde girl, she must have just come of age.

Frida curled her lips at her. "Not yet. Hm," she raised her eyebrow at her, "I think you should all… not work tomorrow."

Out of the corner of her eyes she could see several of the surrounding servants freezing in the spot behind the servant girl before her. One of them even dropped a cabbage on the floor, turning her eyes shortly to Frida.

She could sense a couple of blue crystals piercing at her face too from down by the fire.

"M-my lady?"

She sounded nervous. As if she was on a trial.

Frida smiled sweetly. "Yes," she nodded, "I think you should all to whatever you'd like to tomorrow. Alright? Be sure to tell everyone that."

The servant girl stared at her with widened eyes, and she nodded, in chock, as she turned around to face the other servants behind her. Her face showed no emotions but surprise, and most of the servants simply turned around to return to their previous workings, the cabbage on the table where it belonged.

Frida turned around in her seat to face the long-hall, and her eyes quickly caught with Ragnar's. He was smiling at her with smugness in his eyes and a raised eyebrow.

"You are generous, my love?" he smiled breathily, just loud enough for her to hear it.

Frida shrugged her shoulders as she turned her eyes to Halfdan at her chest. He had fallen asleep there, and she curled back her dress to cover herself before wrapping him tighter in his rug.

"Everyone deserves generosity in cold times, even them," she nodded before returning her eyes to his.

He smiled at her shortly, before looking at Ragnvald on his stomach. "I think some would say that is very Christian to do, but…" Frida could feel a couple of eyes from around the corners of the long-hall turn to her, "I think you are right. They are equally of flesh and blood."

Frida nodded in a smile.

It was not long before they were all gathered around the tables positioned in the long-hall, all feasting with plates of roasted duck, roasted pork neck with rind, sugared pieces of cabbage, borecole porridge and rye bread. Still warm honey mead filled their mugs, and a lovely musical tune sounded from the corner where some men had gathered to perform.

The air of the long-hall was very warm and comfortable, causing Frida's cheeks to burn with a pink heat. Conversations and laughter filled the room and soon, the many guests had scattered around the tables as their bellies were full, and soon their words were blurred by the amounts of honey liquids they downed.

Frida noticed Floki's eyes stalking towards Ragnar, and she turned her eyes to see him in a deep conversation with Athelstan. Her eyes turned back to Floki, and she jumped a little in her seat when she saw him staring back at her with hard eyes.

He looked very small for a short moment, the image of a small and hurt child prevailing from his figure.

She shook her head, and forced out a smile, raising her mug at him. Floki did not raise his glass but when he drank from it, and she quickly took a sip of hers, the sweet taste traveling down her throat and filling her with warmth.

She weighed the words in her head for a short moment, before she spoke: "Floki… I've been thinking, would you mind?"

She pointed to the chair beside her where Hvitserk once had been sitting. Floki hesitated for a moment, but he soon stalked over to her side in long awkward strides, his head lowered a little as he sat down.

"You were thinking?" he breathed in a small voice, a giggle prevalent over his tongue as he turned his eyes to her with a devilish look in his eyes.

She chuckled breathily and waved her hand at him.

He sniggered nervously before taking a small sip from his mug. His ears were painted black for the occasion, and he turned his dark encircled eyes to the crowd before them.

"I want to ask for your help, your… expertise," Frida started, her eyes turning to the table before them as she felt his eyes on her.

She wondered why his stare still felt warm on her, as if the black coals were still burning like embers behind his ocean blue ones. It made a cold shiver run down her spine, and she shook her head as if to shake the feeling off.

"Hm?" Floki snorted, finally removing the coals from her face, earning her to exhale a small gush of air.

"I want to make a stem, to decorate one, I mean. For one of the boats going to England. If you will help me?"

Her voice revealed that she was actually quite anxious to ask him this question. She did not know whether he wanted to spend the time with her. She did not dare to look him in the eyes.

She heard him giggling. His eyes were burning. "I will, my queen," he made a weird movement with his hands over his face, "but I will not make anything… Christian, for any of my boats."

His words sounded hard, and it caused something to pinch inside her chest. She shook her head.

"No, I, uh… I want antlers. We'll talk about it later."

She turned her face away from Floki's coals, bit she could not avoid their heat. She felt it lingering on her.

Irritation spired quickly from her heart, and she turned around to see him staring at her with narrowed eyes, as if hoping for exactly this, an uproar of some sort. Frida breathed out hard through her nostrils.

She narrowed her eyes back at him. "What do you believe is the difference between Christendom and the Norse ways, really?" she asked in a seething tone, her anger suddenly boiling alongside with the mead in her stomach.

She could sense several eyes turning to Floki and her.

She did not care, and neither did he, it seemed.

"Everything," he whispered in a breath, before hiding his face behind his mug, downing a healthy sip while turning his eyes to the crowd in front of them.

Several smiles were sent in his direction.

Frida exhaled deeply. "You want to know what I think? Do you want to know why I think better of your ways than my very old ones?"

She could feel her heart drumming in her chest. Ragnar and Athelstan were not speaking anymore, so she knew they were listening too. Her voice had might been a bit raised, she was not sure, because she only saw Floki's hesitation in her eyes, still a small note of doubt in his eyes when he looked at her.

And it infuriated her.

She spoke, in quiet but clear words, as if she had practiced these words in her sleep a long time ago, the words flowing clean: "You do not bend your knees in supplication to the gods and to the goddesses, nor do you beg them to do for you… Rather, you… You ask them to empower you to do for yourselves. You neither need, nor ask for your gods' forgiveness. You… We were not born into sin, we were born to be the best we can be."*

A long silent moment followed Frida's words.

She could feel everyone's eyes on her, but she kept hers on Floki, staring into his ocean blue eyes that had burning embers behind them. He giggled.

"Hail queen Frida!" a male voice sounded from the crowd, and Frida turned her eyes in surprise to see Bjørn raising his drinking horn into the air in the crowd.

And she widened her eyes when they all followed suit.

Their voices rung through the air of the long-hall, causing Frida to blush heavily as she turned to look at Ragnar beside her. He was smiling at her smugly from behind his mug.

"Hail," he raised at her with a cocked eyebrow, sipping lightly from his mug before curling his lips at her. His eyes were prickling at her skin, and she blushed even more.

Frida soon turned her eyes to look back at Floki, but her mouth opened lightly when she saw that he was gone. The chair was empty.

A quick movement by her ear had her jumping in her chair, and she heard Floki's voice creeping into her ears like licking flames: "I will help you."

She sighed out.

* * *

 *** Yule/yule time (Christmas): In Denmark we call it "jul" and our traditions are still very colored by the old Viking traditions. The Viking celebration of Christmas has definitely had an impact on the way Christians celebrate Christmas now. I mean, Jesus was born during summer and not in winter, bringing in the Christmas tree, etc.**

 *** Billy-goats made out of straw: an old Nordic Viking tradition, only seen here. It is one of the oldest traditions of the Scandinavian culture(s). I made tons of these while in kindergarten. See: wendelboe .dk/jul/myimages/25_ buk . jpg**

 ***This is to me, the heart of Asatru.**


	62. Chapter 62

**Hey guys! So the birds are finally returning to Denmark now, and the weather is getting better. We have a lot of rain these days, but the trees and bushes are staring to prepare themselves for summer, and there are already small green buds appearing on them. Yay :D How's the weather where you're at?**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter of Frida. Skål!**

* * *

"We are lost."

An angry silence. Roaring ocean and thundering over the sky in quick flashes.

"They should be…" Nervous jitters.

Antlers hovering over them, embracing their death.

A hard crash with the waves.

"We are dying," she finally breathed.

Frida opened her eyes and breathed in heavily, sitting up straight in the bed with a hand flying to her throat in the darkness of night, her eyes desperately searching around in the black room, her heart pumping achingly, panicky, in her chest.

It was only a dream.

She still breathed hard, as if she had been holding her breath for the longest of times, as if she had been drowning. She turned to look at Ragnar who was sleeping beside her.

His face was serene and calm, his mouth slightly open.

She cupped her face with her hands, finally sighing out in relief, the feeling of the dream retrieving slightly from her skin. She closed her eyes in her hands.

The image of Floki's angry face before an angry sky flashed before her eyes, and she gasped out, opening her eyes quickly again.

It was from her dream. But she already felt the memories of the dream disappearing into the corners of her mind, the visions gone, the knowledge lost. She cursed out in a whisper into the night, and turned in the bed.

All she could remember was her on a boat, with Floki, and then the danger.

The anger. The roaring of the sea.

She lifted her hand to let her hands travel over her throat. She felt strange, restless.

...

The restlessness endured all winter.

It was a cold and very white winter, with clear skies and a bleached sun, only appearing as a small little circle above them through the heavy layer of frost that lay in the air during both the night as well as the day.

Frida kept herself busy. She clearly had to take care of her two lovely new sons, Halfdan and Ragnvald, who were growing bigger and stronger day by day. She could feel it as she fed them.

But when she was not being a mother to her children, she found herself pulled towards the forest that led her to Floki and Helga's place. She was working on her new project there. And while Ragnar sometimes accompanied her there, she often went alone.

She liked being there, she liked working next to Floki, while he was building his boats silently beside her, only turning his eyes once in a while to make judgements of her work.

She wanted to decorate a stem for a boat, and while Floki had only let her carve into smaller pieces of wood before, he had finally thought her adequate to start on her stem. She knew that she would never be able to make ones alike his, for he did really have a gift for carpentry, one that she could never dream to imitate.

Frida did her best.

And for the moment, she actually did not think it to be that bad. She could easily see the difference between Floki's carved out stems and hers, the lines in his wood somehow both round and edgy, whereas Frida's carvings were very straight but weak still, causing her to skulk a bit over at the carpenter of Kattegat as she mirrored his work one evening in Tordmåned.*

She watched how he moved smoothly along with the grains of the wood, his shoulders rolling in glides with the resistance of the plank, and she turned her eyes to the smooth surface of the plank.

She looked at her own.

It was bulky and messy, as if she had violated some rules of the wood, misinterpreting the thing before her. She frowned.

"You have stopped?" Floki's voice snaked towards her, and she felt his eyes on her as she kept hers on the stem before her.

She sighed out. "Well…" she turned her eyes to him, smiling, "Look at it!"

She saw him casting his eyes upon her stem, before he giggled out nervously. His eyes turned to hers, and she burst out a surrendering laugh, throwing her tools to the table beside her.

Floki stalked closer, letting his hand run through his beard as he eyed the carvings on her stem closer, and when he was close enough, he let his hand run over her work. He sent her hard eyes.

"You attack the wood, Frida, destroy its patterns." He shook his head and once more let his hand run over the rough edges. "Listen to it, move along it. Softer."

She picked up her tools once more, and sighed out as Floki returned to his work.

When she raised her hands and let the iron touch the wood, she heard him giggling out. "I like your way," he breathed while glaring at her from out of the corner of his eyes.

She looked at the raven that was coming to show on the wooden stem in front of her. She puffed out a small gush of air. "I'm trying to make it Viking, like your kind."

A long moment of silence passed between them. She noticed him shrugging his shoulders before he turned around to his work, and she furrowed her eyebrows as she once more eyed the stem she was working on.

She did believe that it looked very Norse, alike the many decorations around the village of Kattegat, however, she could not imitate it perfectly, and so her raven did have a different kind of edge to it. But she kept on working.

Summer was slowly coming closer.

And she knew that when it came, when the ice over the sea finally melted, they would fare out on boats of many, and they would go to her old lands, to Northumbria. That was what she had been told to do many times now, by dreams and visions, by children and animals.

The gods had told her.

She did not know what to expect from this journey, all she knew was that she had this feeling when she imagined herself walking on English land again, this strange feeling that she did not know. She could not recognize it.

But together with the restless sensation that covered her heart during this time of winter, she felt frozen in time somehow, as if she would live in this particular space forever. With her two newborn sons, Ragnhildir, Ragnar, family and friends, surrounding her in a warm embrace, an oncoming journey ahead of her but too far away for her to reach, anticipation repeatedly resounding in the many familiar voices around her, causing a nervous but excited shiver to prevail over her spine.

She felt a line of concern carving her forehead as she furrowed her brows, her entire body exhausted from standing up for so many hours straight, and she lifted her hand to her forehead, closing her eyes for a short moment.

She knew that she would not stay in this state forever. Someone had plans for her, plans that revolved in her going back to England. What troubled her was why.

How could her going on the raid possibly help Ragnar in any way?

She bit her lower lip, and stared absentmindedly at nothing in particular. When she felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder, she started in surprise, and quickly turned her eyes to Floki at her side.

"It is late, I will take you home," he stated shortly, before stalking out towards the small boat he always used to go to the village.

Frida shook her head lightly before she followed him, and they were soon on the way back over the cold icy water through the narrow paths of the broken ice, the wind heaving lightly, crying out from the mountains. They were both silent as they made their way closer to the harbor, but Frida could feel his eyes burning on her, smoldering from behind his dark cloak as he rowed them along.

She saw the cloud of mist that was his breath appearing in front of him before she heard his voice.

"What is your concern?" he asked curiously, as he bended slightly towards her.

Frida turned her eyes to the inclosing lights of the village before them, and she shrugged her shoulders. "I, uh… I just have this bad feeling about this summer's raid, but I don't know why."

She closed her eyes as she heard the words come out of her mouth. They sounded ridiculous, stupid. She regretted having opened her mouth.

Floki made a strange noise.

His words sounded rehearsed and formal, as if they were not spoken from his lips, even as she saw them moving: "The unwise man is awake all night, worries over and again. When morning rises, he is restless still, his burden as before.*"

Frida furrowed her brows at his dark cloak, and she felt a smile curl her lips. He was right.

It did not help her or anyone else that she spent her time dreading the future. Because it would come, as sure as comes the night, whether she was prepared for it or not. So she just had to prepare herself, make herself ready for the oncoming journey, for her destiny.

She gave Floki a small hug before they entered the longhouse, as a thank you for helping her. And she was surprised when he did not flinch away from her.

"Time, low waters and rivers await no one."*

* * *

 ***Tordmåned: This is a Danish Viking month of winter, reaching from the 14th of March to the 13th of April. Yes they had their own monthly calendar, and it only divided the year into two seasons: summer and winter. "Tordmåned" means 'the month of the men.' (Don't worry, we have a 'month of the women' as well, named "Blidemåned") ;)**

 ***This is from the Havamal (The Book of Viking Wisdom)**

 ***An old Danish saying.**


	63. Chapter 63

**Skål!**

* * *

Ragnar returned home very late at night.

But even though he was dancing over the floor in light steps, his calculated and hunter-like steps, she heard him, and she was wide awake when the door to the bedroom opened.

She smiled when she saw the panic flash over his eyes when he noticed her alert eyes, but she quickly shook her head as he entered, humming lightly at his return. "No, don't worry, I was already awake."

Ragnar sent her apologizing eyes, but something else shone from them. Pride, somehow.

Frida widened hers. "Did you find one?"

Ragnar nodded his head smugly, causing the braiding falling from the back of his head to swing over his shoulder, a smile curling his lips. Frida sat up straight in the bed, clapping her hands excitedly.

"Oh, you are so good!" she exclaimed, a bit louder than she intended.

Ragnar sent her accusing eyes as he dramatically waved his arms in the direction of their sleeping children. "Love, would you mind?" he flared in a demeaning tone, eyeing her hard as he took a couple of steps towards her while buttoning up his outer fur.

Frida rolled her eyes at the broad Viking approaching her, but her eyes did travel quickly to the children's faces to see if they had been disturbed by the noise. They were sleeping peacefully.

"Bjørn found it," Ragnar's voice rasped tiredly, and she felt him sit down on the bed beside her, "I was surprised, actually."

Frida raised her hand to brush it lightly over the side of his head, her eyes roaming over the ink art on his skin there. It was a raven, just above his ear there. It reminded her of something.

"Why?" she asked absentmindedly, letting her finger sway over the dark patterns in his skin.

Ragnar hummed lightly, and closed his eyes for a short moment. "He tracked it for a long time, before any of us noticed it. I had no idea he was hunting it before he fired the arrow."

A surprising tone sounded from Ragnar's voice as he turned his head to look at her, and she noticed a slight look of defeat in his face.

"He is very clever, Bjørn, indeed," Frida smiled in a breath, her hand still playing lightly over the dark patterns on his head.

She curled her lips at him. "He was raised well."

She was surprised when she saw something painful in his eyes, a quick spark of some sort burning from within his mind, but he soon turned his head slightly away from her, avoiding her searching eyes.

He soon nodded, smiling: "Yes, Athelstan and his mother did a wonderful job."

Frida furrowed her brows at him, as he pulled off his dirty inner shirt, and she could sense his traveling eyes avoiding her still.

"Yeah, of course they did," she smiled, reaching up her hand to grab his braid, forcing his face in her direction, "and how much he is alike them. There's barely a trace of Ragnar Loðbrók in him!"

Her heart warmed when she saw a smile sneaking over his lips, even if he did try to hide it from her. He shrugged his shoulders.

"His veins run with the same blood as yours, Ragnar," Frida breathed at him in a gentle voice. "He is Bjørn Ironside, and everyone knows of whom he is a son for a reason. Ask everyone, ask Ingeborg."

Ragnar breathed out something between a chuckle and a sigh, looking at her with confused eyes. "The Götaland princess?"

She raised her brow at him and barked out a small laugh. "Yes, my love. That was one of the first things she asked me. If he was like you."

She scooted closer to him, and let her hand travel down to help him push down his leather-armored hunting pants, feeling his confused stare piercing over her cheeks.

She saw him staring ahead of himself out of the corner of her eyes, smiling curtly and shrugging his shoulders.

"And… what did you say?" he asked shortly, his Norse tongue curling so beautifully into the dark room.

She let her hand travel up his back and to his shoulders, rediscovering all the markings and scars along his skin there, and she sent him a flirtatious smile.

"That she was to be prepared for an uncanny resemblance," she whispered, "and she was glad to hear it. That is as much as I'm going to say."

Ragnar turned his eyes to hear, sending her narrowed but loving eyes. She raised her hand to the side of his head again, inspecting his dark ink marks there. She breathed out.

"Does it hurt?" she asked silently, feeling his hand suddenly under the fur, searching for her warmth.

She smiled when his hand touched her stomach.

"My skin paintings?" he smiled quickly, reaching his hand up to touch hers, "Uh, no, not much. Why?"

Frida smiled, her mind wandering off to some place far away. The night was very silent around them, like as if it was listening to their conversation itself.

"I'd like to have one."

She felt her cheeks blushing when Ragnar's crystals turned to pierce at her face. He turned around in the bed, positioning himself in front of her.

His eyebrow was raised, and his face was as smug as ever. His beard curled sweetly over his upper lip, as a smile prevailed on his mouth. "Where?"

Frida giggled.

He did not even ask of what the painting should be.

She widened her eyes enthusiastically. "Here, over my face," she whispered dramatically, "of the skull of a bleeding man! That will scare our enemies!"

Ragnar chuckled before grabbing both her hands, throwing her down onto the bed, following her to soon have his face only inches from hers, chuckling breathily out over her face with warmth.

"Tell me the truth," he rasped in a soft voice, his eyes traveling all over her face, from her mouth to her eyes to her cheeks to her hair.

He groaned as he positioned himself better, his naked body soon pressed against Frida, only the covering furs of the bed between them. She giggled out and tried to wriggle herself out of his grip.

He laughed out a pathetic laugh when she failed, and he started kissing her face roughly. She laughed out breathily from the sensation of his beard tickling her soft skin.

"On my… on my arm, on my arm," she giggled out in surrender, and Ragnar soon turned still above her.

"On your shoulder?" he asked in a still voice, his breath warm on her face.

She shook her head, and smiled innocently at him. "No, on my arm. You know, the whole arm?"

Ragnar widened his eyes at her, and a surprised smile soon appeared on his lips. He scooted to the place beside her on the bed, a look of shock on his face.

"What?" she rushed, as he crawled under the covers, staring into the darkness before them with still widened eyes.

She grabbed his arm.

His eyes fell back to her. "No, nothing, I, uh, it will take a long time. And it is not pleasant, love, not for one like you," he rushed in short words, causing her to tilt her head at him.

She saw him rolling his eyes when he noticed the look she was giving him.

"One like me?"

He shook his head dramatically, whispering a silent 'here we go' as she raised herself up on her elbow, staring down at him with big eyes, a wide smile hidden under thin lips.

"I'll show you what one like me thinks unpleasant," and she straddled him like a horse under the covers, grinding her pelvis against him.

The surprise on Ragnar's face soon turned to hunger. She rode him silently.

…

"Is it done yet?" Sigurd's impatient voice was heard from behind some of the barrels outside the skin painter's cottage.

She heard Ragnar chuckling.

"It is done when she comes out, dummy," his teasing voice sounded, causing Frida to smile only shortly, before the needle once more pierced her skin.

She thought Ragnar's stare could be uncomfortable at times. This was so much more, this was repeating, over and over again, in and out of her flesh bearing ink and the sensation of being stabbed lightly in the skin with a dwarf's blade.

She felt another set of shivers run over her body. She was glad it was over soon.

She had sat in this chair for two days now, all day, and she was getting very sick of everything. The sound of a dog barking had made her almost lose her mind a couple of hours ago.

But she was done soon, the painter had told her, and so now she only awaited the last time the needle went through her skin. She did not even care about the results, she just wanted to get it over with.

Alright, she did care a little bit about the results.

These paintings were to be permanent on her skin, there forever, until her death. And she dared not to look at them before they were finished, she only knew how they had looked this morning, when only the outer lines of the symbols were inked over her skin.

The many small holes that the needle had carved into her skin had bleed during the night, and she was very sore when he first began.

Now it just seemed like her entire arm had caught a disease, or as if some sort of poison had been poured into it, painfully throbbing with each punctuating stab of the needle.

She felt him running a wet cloth over her arm, instantly feeling a joyful cooling sensation run along it. "You're done," he growled, before turning away to wash his hands in a bucket beside him.

Frida instantly rose to her feet, and put down the small bag of coins she had brought the painter as payment. "Thank you, Roar. I'll rinse it daily with the pasture. Again, thank you."

She turned around only to let her eyes fall to her arm, and she sighed out in awe.

Over the skin of her right arm, black as the night, ran the image of a big tree trunk from her wrist, turning around her arm like a snake, only to develop itself into an explosion of skillfully detailed branches with leaves. In the marvelous crown of the tree spired four pairs of antlers, each of them curving differently over the dark branches, and in the middle of the tree trunk a squirrel was apparent, its eyes staring out easily. The roots of the tree snaked around down at her wrists and tied the whole painting into an end, cutting her hand clean, like the sleeve of a long shirt.

Frida sent a smile back to the painter Roar. "It is beautiful," she complimented before leaving the house out into the cold spring air.

She felt her cheeks blushing when the others saw her, when Ragnar saw her, but she thanked them when they complimented it.

Ragnar actually appeared to be the one who liked it the most.

She felt it in the stares he gave her as they had gone back to rinse it at the longhouse. And she felt it while they dined in the long-hall later that evening, even as she fed Ragnvald and Halfdan. Did she feel it when he turned in early that night, crawling into their bed once more with a hungry light in his eyes, handling her delicately, so her arm would not hurt.

When they had exploded together, Ragnar hummed her a silent song, his voice calming her gently.

*"An ash, I know it stands,  
it is named Yggdrasill.  
High tree, sprinkled  
with white mud.  
There from come the dews  
that fall over the dale.  
It stands always green, above  
the source of Urdhr."

"There from come the maids,  
much knowing  
three, their dwelling  
stands under the tree.  
Urdh is named one,  
the other Verdhandi.  
They scored wood,  
and Skuld is the third.  
They set up the laws,  
they decided on the lives  
of the children of man.  
They promulgate fate."

Frida let her finger run over her arm where the tree eyes were marked into her skin with blackness. Urdh, Verdhandi, and Skuld.

They had decided her fate with the gods.

* * *

 *** This song is a poem from the old Norse Völuspá. It is very beautiful. Go here to listen to it: You Tube *** /watch?v=H8woyhVYq3c**


	64. Chapter 64

**Hi guys! I hope you're enjoying spring. I know I am :)**

 **I hope you enjoy the new chapter of Frida! Skål!**

* * *

Frida's decorating of the stems for one of the boats for this summer's raid was almost done.

She had already carved out both of the wood stems, and Floki had helped her prepare the antlers. They were only to be handled very gently, and he used a strange tool for hardening them, she did not know what it was called. She could not really perceive the words Floki had spoken, when she had asked him.

But the antlers looked very beautiful, as they rose up from the wood stems, two pair of them very alike, and while Frida viewed them one well-tempered evening of the late spring, she still felt like they needed something more. But she did not know what.

The boat was already done, and she soon heard a snicker coming from behind her in by the door.

She smiled, but did not turn around.

"They need something more," she stated as she heard his footsteps nearing her.

He snickered. "I like them. They will look good on my boat."

Frida turned her head to send him big eyes. "Your boat?"

Floki glared at her with demonic eyes, narrowed at her like small daggers. He turned the daggers back to her work, putting his hand up to his bearded chin and giggled manically. "I made the boat, so they will be on my boat," he hummed breathily, his mouth curling twistedly as his tongue rolled.

Frida sighed out at him with her arms flaring up, dramatically.

"Yes, but I will travel in the boat, will I not?" she asked in an impatient voice, staring hard at the dark circles around his eyes.

He chuckled. The sound of the rain falling down outside was loud. "Yes, if you wish to travel with me. But Ragnar might object to that, my queen."

Floki's eyes burned at her, and she tore hers away from him, blowing out a big gush of air through her nostrils. She had not expected this.

She heard him chuckling, before moving closer to examine the stems, and she followed him out of the corner of her eyes, watching as he stalked across the floor in his big movements. He was such a large man, and yet, when she looked into his eyes, she always saw someone smaller than his size, and she had not yet really understood why.

Time would tell.

"What do you want, more?" Floki asked, causing Frida to shake her head slightly.

She pushed her thought to the back of her mind, and focused back on her decorations. She considered for a short moment. But she knew already what missed.

"Color," she stated, before letting her eyes fall to the ground.

She thoughtlessly let one of her hands up to have her fingers stroke against the colored skin of her other arm, and she bit her lip.

"Color?" Floki chuckled, and she saw him walking a couple of steps over to look at some small barrels over by the wall that contained paint.

Frida shook her head. "No, life color."

Floki froze, and slowly turned his face at hers. His eyes burned at her again, but this time she kept hers locked with his. He giggled.

"You should take the blood by sacrifice. Bring your children," he breathed wickedly with a voice unfamiliar to her.

She tilted her head at him.

"Will you come?" she asked in a small voice.

He furrowed his brows for a short moment, a wrinkle carving over his forehead, before he turned away from her, stepping a bit closer to the stems in front of them, and he soon raised a hand to let his fingers trace over the carvings.

"No," he said, and she furrowed her brows when she felt disappointment wash over her face, "I think you'll be just fine on your own."

….

Frida jumped from her seat in her throne, her hands flying to her head. "What… How is she doing that? Why haven't you stopped her?!"

She threw herself across the floors, and quickly pulled her young daughter off the back of Freke.

Ragnhildir had been sitting in him like a horse! And the wolf had calmly strolled into the long-hall from the bedroom, not minding at all her weight.

Frida felt Ragnhildir pushing at her arms, and her eyes soon locked with Freke's. He seemed to be calm, and he made a small humming sound. Frida looked back at her daughter's white hair, which had grown quite a bit this spring, before she put her back down onto the Freke's back.

The two of them soon strolled on, as if they had been doing it forever.

Frida shook her head at them, before sighing out and turning around to walk back to her throne. She felt several eyes on her, some laughter sounded from around her.

She shrugged her shoulders in surrender and smiled at them, before sitting down and pouring herself a mug of ale.

Athelstan soon appeared in front of her, raising his mug at her with raised eyebrows, a wide smile on his lips. They cheered and drank together, before her nodded his head back in the direction of Ragnhildir.

"Never in my life did I think I would lay my eyes upon a sight like that," he smiled at her, stepping closer.

She laughed out and urged him to sit next to her on Ragnar's seat. He nodded at her before sitting down.

"How are you, friend?" she asked, "Are you ready to go back to Northumbria?"

Athelstan widened his eyes at her before blowing out a big gush of air, throwing his head to the side in order to get some of his wild hair out of his face. "I think I'm as ready as I can be," he chuckled, "but I could imagine you to be a little nervous, with it being your first time back?"

She nodded in a small smile.

It certainly was a disturbing thought somehow, going back to the lands where she was born. She let her eyes fall to her right arm, and she quickly gazed over the dark colors there. Not one of the Saxons was going to recognize her, not even if they were to make it back to her old village.

She liked that idea.

"Hey, are you okay?" Athelstan nudged her shoulder lightly, and she quickly shook her head and smiled at him again.

"Yes, excuse me for my absent mind, I… I can't imagine what it feels like, seeing English ground again."

The voice that left her lips was strange to her, and it reminded her of someone she had not spoken to for a very long time. She felt Athelstan's grey eyes on her, and she only turned her face towards him when they left her.

She noticed how his fingers were mindlessly swaying over his arm ring.

"I know," he finally breathed, "but to the English, you will appear just as Norse as the rest of them… the rest of us."

Their eyes quickly locked, and they both spread their lips in wide smiles at each other. The sound of a blacksmith forging sounded from the outside of the longhouse. The rain that had poured over them over the last couple of months had silently grown dry, but the air was still thick with moist, even here inside the long-hall, causing small pearls of sweat to spring from the line of Frida's hair.

"I reckoned," Athelstan continued in a calm voice, "that is also why you asked Floki to help you decorate stems?"

Frida breathed out a nervous giggle, and she quickly came to wonder whether she had spent too much time with Floki recently. Her giggle sounded so wicked, just like his.

"Well, yes, in all honesty. Not only do I return like one from the far North in appearance and heart, I return like their queen."

A short silence hovered between them, and she felt his eyes on her.

She continued in her strange voice: "I wanted to praise the gods with my decorations, to reveal the power the Asir bring to their people. To take them with me."

Her breath got caught in her throat, and she opened her mouth to speak more, but hesitated. She felt a certain piercing at her cheeks, and she looked around in the long-hall but could not see Ragnar anywhere.

She gulped down before she dared speak a little more from her heart. "But I will not sail forth in the boat that they were made for, sadly."

She felt Athelstan staring at her in surprise.

"Why not?" he asked softly. His air was very calm, earning her to merely shrug her shoulders, as if she did not care anyways.

"Floki will sail that boat. He told me. And I have to stay with Ragnar, the queen with her king."

Athelstan bent closer to her, so close that she could smell his breath.

She felt a slight electric current run over her skin when he whispered: "It seems like Floki turned out to open his heart to at least one Saxon here."

Frida widened her eyes and stared at Athelstan with surprise flushed over her face, her brows furrowing at him. She felt a small heat in her cheeks. "What do you mean?"

Athelstan blinked one of his eyes at her in a smug smile. "If there is one thing I have come to know about Floki's soul since my arrival here in Kattegat, it is that he does not take too kindly to strangers. Or, to people that does not understand the gods like he does, I find. You should regard this as a compliment to your faith, Frida."

The heating, pricking sensation on the skin of her face intensified, and she let her eyes fall to her hands around her mug. Her knuckles were white, and she quickly released her apparently tight grip around the mug.

The necklace that she always carried over her chest suddenly felt a bit heavier, and she could not help but to smile a little.

But her smile quickly faded. "Either way, a queen should follow her king when crossing such big waves, should she not?"

A small clearing of a throat sounded behind them, which caused them both to turn around in the chairs in surprise.

Frida felt her face burn with heat when she saw Ragnar stepping out of the shadows behind them. She knew that he had been watching them speak, she had felt his eyes on her.

Her heart pounded as he stepped forward with a smug smile on his lips, his eyes piercing through hers as he turned around to rest himself against his occupied throne. She felt like he was judging her as he stood there, judging her for even considering crossing the great sea in another boat than his.

"Yes," he breathed smugly, his eyes turning dramatically to Athelstan, "The wolf follows the raven by, but he on ground and the raptor in the sky."

Frida furrowed her brows at him, but he simply kept his mysterious stare on Athelstan.

What was that supposed to mean?

* * *

 **Are you guys still with me?**


	65. Chapter 65

**Hi guys. I hope you enjoy my 65th chapter of Frida!**

 **Skål!**

* * *

King Gylfe ruled his hand over all the land of Svithjod.*

Of him they tell that he gave to a wayfaring woman, as a gift for her stories, a plow-land in his realm, as large as four oxen could plow for a day and a night. But she was of the asa-race, Gefjun was her name.

She came from the north, from Jotunheim, and the oxen were the sons of her and a giant, she took them to plow. The sons had been raised well, and they went the plow so deep and roughly, it tore up the land, and the oxen drew it westward into the sea until it stood still in a sound. There, Gefjun set the land and named it Seeland.* The scar in Svithjod they named Logrinn.*

"Gefjun glad  
drew from Gylfe  
the excellent land,  
Denmark's increase,  
so that it reeked  
from the working beasts.  
Four heads and eight of eyes  
bore the oxen.  
As they went before the wide  
robbed land of the grassy green isle."*

….

"Have they all stilled at the harbor?"

"Yes, all the boats of Eysteinn Beli are here."

Kattegat was alive.

Every single one of the villagers were working, bearing chests and pots, bags and logs, cooking food and storing it away in barrels and wrappings, all of them swarming over the paths of Kattegat, snaking around each other like ants in the ground.

With the clear skies and a warm air blowing down over them, it was as if Kattegat had grown a heartbeat of its own, a slow and rhythmic pulse that snaked through the village and onto the beach that exploded with vigor and salty sprays. Anticipation was thick in the air.

Frida felt it when she breathed in the incredibly moist air that the warm breeze carried, she even felt it on her tongue, a damp and drowsy taste spreading over it as she made her way down to the harbor.

She already had a stale taste in her mouth, and a couple of tears had left their marks on her cheeks. She had just placed the last kisses of this summer on her children's small foreheads. They had only smiled innocently at her, at their mother, as they did not understand that she was leaving them behind with the servants and Helga. But she had waited for this.

She gasped when her eyes finally took in the sight of the many boats in the harbor. There were so many, she could not even start to count them. Like small logs in the waves after a storm, the longships were huddled together in the fjord with black and blue banners, the Dane and the Geat side by side.

She felt like she was staring at an enormous sea faring army of boats, with sails instead of horses and oars instead of feet. The people made way for her as she crossed the marketplace, and she soon found herself on Kattegat's beach, hesitating with a short breath.

She let her eyes fall to the sand below her feet.

Solid yet damp. She moved her feet in the sand, carving a little edge in its bleakness.

She did not like to leave these lands. She felt the sorrow harden something inside her heart, earning her to stand still there in the middle of all the commotion. People running back and forth, words thrown in the air, the water ever waving.

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of having her two feet on the earth. She had to remember this.

The journey that lay ahead was long and maddening, she knew it. She had already done it one time before. Though, Frida felt as though some of the memories of her journey from Northumbria to Kattegat had been erased from her mind. As if they had been too heavy for her to carry.

This time, however, the journey would be on her own terms.

She had chosen to go, she had chosen how to go, and she had chosen who to go with.

Even though every part of her body pulled her towards the boat where Ragnar was, she knew that she had to go with the boat that carried her antlers. She could feel the burning in her heart, however strange and misplaced that burning could sound to so many people.

She knew that her feelings for the man with the dark-circled eyes had changed, but she also knew that they were not of desire. She somehow felt drawn to him in a much more intelligent way, as if her mind was yearning for his understanding of the world. The burning she felt was like the burning she had felt so many times before when being in the presence of the gods, warm and hopeful, determined and real.

Frida opened her eyes and let them travel to Ragnar down at the boats, talking with the Geat king Eysteinn. He seemed very spirited, with adventure shining from his eyes.

Frida quickly let her eyes roam over the crowd of people before she rested them on Bjørn's back. She smiled when she saw that he and princess Ingeborg had already found each other.

A sudden hand on Frida's shoulder had her gasping out in surprise, and she turned around in a small jump, only to see Lagertha smiling beside her. Frida noticed that she had lifted her hands to her chest, and she quickly let them drop down to her sides.

Lagertha smiled apologetically before turning her eyes to the harbor like Frida had before.

Frida followed her motion. Silence prevailed between them for a short moment, before Frida chose to break it.

"I remember," she started out, keeping her eyes on the boats before them, "that you told me of a bad feeling you had a long time ago. Of this trip."

Frida could feel Lagertha's eyes on her. She turned her face to look at her, and she sensed how her heart pumped.

Her question tingled her tongue with soft warnings. "Do you still feel it?"

She could see Lagertha's stare shifting from her one eye to the other. Her chin trembled slightly. She turned her eyes to the harbor once more, before nodding. "Yes."

Frida let her eyes stay at the beautiful blonde woman next to her, before she too turned her glare to the fjord. "I'm glad that you are going with Ragnar, Lagertha, if things go wrong. He will protect you,"

Frida said into the air, and she sensed how her blood rushed.

They were to move soon.

She heard Lagertha chuckle, and she soon breathed in a giggle: "Or I will protect him. You will be safe too, Frida. I know it."

Not long passed before the horns sounded and the many boats turned towards the clear sky before them, with the open water ahead, calling them to sea. The last farewells sounded through the air, and tears and hearts bleeding thickened the air between the land and the ocean, a thin mist falling over the many boats.

Frida narrowed her eyes at the thin line in the horizon where the sea touches the sky, leaning against the front stem of the boat, her arms hugged around it. Antlers hovered proudly above her.

The moving speed of their vessel surprised her, and when she finally dared to look around, Kattegat was only a dark spot in the land behind them, her heart sinking a little in her chest. But soon, a beautiful female voice was heard from somewhere in the mist, one of the shieldmaidens singing a loud and encouraging verse, resounding between the boats:

"Awakens not to the wine,  
nor awakens he to the speech.  
Rather, we awake for Hilder's  
tough game."*

The boats soon left the seas of Denmark, and rushed into the dark openness with light hearts.

Little did they know what lie ahead of them, as they drew closer to a black storm that was raging over the big waves of the ocean. Little did they know that their journeys would not all lead them to the same grounds.

But they would soon come to see it with their own eyes.

* * *

 *** Svithjod: old way of saying Sweden (this name covers all parts of Sweden)**

 *** Seeland: in Danish 'Sjælland' (this only goes for this isle, which is where our capital Copenhagen is placed)**

 *** Logrinn: today a lake called the Malar Lake. The edge of its bay correspond to the capes in Seeland. This means that Denmark was plowed out of Sweden, at least according to this old myth.**

 *** This is a story from the Younger Edda (more specifically in "The Fooling of Gylfe") One can say that it is 'the birth of Denmark', or at least the 'increase of Denmark' when Seeland was carved out from Sweden (or maybe conquered?) :)**

 *** From the Sagas. This is often showed to portray the Vikings' views on war/fighting. They loved it. :)**


	66. Chapter 66

**OMG so now Frida's reached over 100,00 views and over 200 followers! Yay :D**

 **I do feel like I need to apologize for not posting any new chapters in a while, but I've been ill with fever, and I hadn't been able to get anything else but school and work done. Sorry.**

 **But here is the new chapter of Frida! I'd like you to listen to a song by the Danish band Nephew called 'Byens Hotel' in order to get in the mood for this chapter.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Skål!**

* * *

A dark and uncanny, angry storm raged above them.

Blackness surrounded them, not even a single light prevailing from anywhere as they heard the waves crash around the boat. They could see nothing but the darkness, and while Frida sat with her arms hugged tightly around the wooden plank that was the bench she was hiding under, she felt her heart pounding hurriedly in her chest with fear.

She closed her eyes when another salty gush of air stabbed her face, making it hard for her to breathe. She could hear some of the men on the boat yelling to each other through the air, but she could not tell what they were saying from all the noise of the storm. Their yells sounded desperate, though, searching.

Frida felt another wave crashing over the boat, and she hugged herself even closer to the wooden bench, while cold sea water sprayed over her entire figure. She noticed a lightning quickly lighting up the sky, and she could tell that the clouds above looked dangerous and wild.

She felt her heart pounding achingly.

She sensed someone lying down next to her, and she narrowed her eyes at the dark figure only to sigh out when she recognized Floki's dark circles. "You," she whispered, staggered.

She heard him breathing hard, and she sensed that his body was shaking wildly. "We lost a lot of men," he trembled, "and we cannot see the other boats."

Frida suddenly felt like her mouth dried out, a sour and strange taste spreading over her tongue. She felt her heart falling into the stomach.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked in a very frail voice. Fear still pounded strongly through her veins.

Before Floki could answer her, someone called for him in the front end of the boat, and he was gone in mere seconds. The force of the storm only seemed to grow harder and harder, and when it felt like the boat hung in the air without even touching the water at some point, Frida knew that this storm was something even Vikings could not manage.

When her thoughts raced to Ragnar, she felt her throat tightening and her lips straightening. They had to be alright.

When the direction of the wind changed, and Frida could breathe normally again, she dared to peep her head up over her hiding place, and take a small look at the sight in front of her. She gasped.

The boat seemed to be empty?!

But her eyes soon noticed some motion up at the far end of the boat, where Floki and a couple of men were trying to pull up an oar of the water. Frida watched in shock as another wave crashed down over them, almost swallowing them completely. Frida yelled for them to stop, but they continued their struggle.

She shook her head in disbelief as lightning thundered over the sky and released another short image of the storm around them.

When the men had finally pulled up the oar, Floki finally listened and returned to her little safe place. She sent him hard eyes as she pulled him in violently, staring at him hard. "What do you think you're doing?" she pressed through tight lips, "you should stay here!"

Floki shook his lips with empty eyes, and turned his eyes to the sky that was lit by a lightning. "The others must be somewhere around us, we don't want to get to far away from them…"

His chin shook heavily as he spoke, and all of his usual nervous jitters were gone. He was scared too.

Frida grabbed his shoulder and shook him once more. "But we are lost, Floki! We can't see anything but darkness!"

She heard him hissing out angrily, but also in defeat.

"They should be nearby…" he started, but his words soon died out.

The sky above seemed to growl at them, like an angry beast, blasting its cold and hard winds over them. Frida sighed out. "We will die, if you go out there. Please, stay."

This time, Floki actually listened to her. And he ordered his men to keep safe like them, until the storm had passed.

It seemed like a nightmare that just went on and on and on, one you never awoke from. But as it is with dreams, you always wake up some time. And the storm did pass eventually.

Frida woke up from a restless sleep when she felt warmth over her cheeks, and she opened her eyes to see a clear and deep blue sky above her, with a bright and gentle sun shining happily down over them as if nothing had happened since it was there earlier.

She straightened her back with a little whimper, as her muscles left their stiffened position, and her eyes soon rested on a calm and beautiful ocean that glistened from the rays of the sun, appearing as floating diamonds before her. But Frida's mouth soon frowned as she turned her head to look around them.

There was not a single boat nearby, nor was there any land in sight.

When she heard the murmur of someone talking, she quickly shot her eyes in direction of the sound. And she widened her eyes when she saw that the boat only held eight men, nine including her, and she bit her lip nervously. She was happy when she saw that Floki was still alive and well on the boat, but she also found herself wondering what they were to do from here.

She rose as quickly as her stiffened muscles would allow her and made her way over to her fellow travelers. She was greeted with a respectful good morning, and Floki soon held out a horn of ale for her. She accepted it thankfully.

"So," she raised after having gulped down a good chunk of her ale, while looking around at the men, "do we know what we are going to do?"

Several of the Vikings' eyes shot to Floki, but when he did not answer, a young man whose name she did not know rose to his feet, nodding his head at her as he opened his mouth.

"My lady, we will go a bit more west, and, then, release the birds. But we don't know how far we've driven during the storm."

The young man's face was very handsome, his features kind of feminine actually, but his body was very muscular and big under his leathery armor. She soon learned that this man's name was Faxe. Frida nodded at him, and turned her eyes to look at Floki.

His eyes were on the horizon in front of them, scouting out to see something, anything. She had never imagined this would happen.

Her thoughts had been so focused on going on the journey in itself, that how the journey would end up like only now started presenting itself in her head. How were they going to find the others? Were they to sail back?

Before long, Floki and another man brought the birds out. They sent one of the birds South, another West, and a third one North.

Frida enjoyed the feeling of the sun's warm rays on her skin, so she closed her eyes at it, even though she knew her face would redden soon. All of the people on the boat enjoyed a couple of moments' silence, before they all sighed out in despair to the flapping sound of a bird's wings.

The raven going South had returned, but that did not have to mean that the two others would. Hopefully, both of them would find land or another boat, which could lead them on their journey. But they had to wait for a long time.

As time passed, one of the Vikings named Torulf started to sing a little song, about a seafarer, just like them, who was looking to go home. His words were soft and lonely:

* "A seafarer set out for a long journey,  
and the waves crashed against his ship.  
The dolphins leapt and the captain sang:  
"You'll probably return home someday…"

But the seafarer thought of his girl,  
while days turned to years.  
He thought, "Aye, I will probably return home someday.  
But tell me, when? Oh, when?  
But tell me, when? Oh, when?""

When they had all just had a small meal of dried fish and ale, another couple of flaps were heard above the boat, and Frida heard Floki hiss out, when the raven going West returned to sit on the railing of the boat.

It was like the air of all the men was suddenly taken away, and Frida soon found herself staring over the calm deep blue waters of the sea silently, hearing only the small gurgling sounds coming from the sides of the boat where the gentle waves touched the wood.

Frida let her eyes travel over the front of the boat where Floki had laid down over the railing, with his head resting on the front stem of the boat, her antlers still intact above him. She felt her stomach turning a little.

It was as if they had gone to some mysterious place that really did not exist, as if everything around them had been pulled away, like they were the only ones left out here on the sea. She wondered if they had indeed crossed the edges of the sea, and now just continued into the open nothing, like Floki often feared.

How could that be possible? How could they have so quickly been dispatched from the others, and now, not being able to find them again? How many of the boats had not seen this beautiful soon after the storm? Was Ragnar looking at the same sun as her, right now, wondering where she had gone?

"Land!"

Floki's hysterical voice crushed the silence violently.

Frida widened her eyes and turned them in Floki's direction, feeling her heart speed in her chest.

"Land!" Another Northman shouted, Faxe actually, and the men soon came to life again, working to place the oars in the waters and closing in on the beaches before them. Frida hurried over to the front of the boat, and stared out at the small spot out there in the sea, and she narrowed her eyes at it.

It looked small from the boat, but she was sure it would appear bigger when they closed in.

Frida soon sensed Floki placing himself at the other side of the front stem, giggling nervously as he too narrowed his eyes on the piece of land before them.

"Is it England?" Frida asked in a calm voice, her eyes roaming on the land.

Floki giggled once more. "It doesn't look very English to me, my queen."

Frida turned her head to stare at Floki next to the stem of the boat. What was that supposed to mean?

* * *

 *** Song by Newphew – Byens Hotel (verse 1+2 here)**


	67. Chapter 67

**Hi guys! Omg, so what did you think about the midseason finale of Vikings? Got me excited, I'm very curious about Ivar. What do you think?**

 **Anyways, here is the 67th chapter of Frida. Hope you enjoy! Skål!**

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"What is this place?"

Frida felt her heart pound loudly in her chest as she took another step forward over the soft green moss-like layer that covered the ground beneath her feet. Her eyes turned to Faxe further ahead of her, who was not hesitant in any way of moving forward, but she could not help but to stare at the scenery behind him.

Enormous mountains raked up behind the couple of Northmen in front of her, dark and majestic, against an almost white sky where the sun burned lightly.

She blinked a couple of moments, still trying to adjust to the colors of this land.

They were very strong colors, she had never seen anything this green in her life, and she wondered how far away their boat had actually gone. It seemed like they had been on the sea for only about a week, but she did not recognize any of the images she came to find here.

This was definitely not England.

Even though they had embarked on land, the air was still very light in her lungs, but it came with a certain taste in her mouth, as if something invisible hovered in its weightlessness. It tastes like burned wood, somehow, and she could not wrap her mind around why.

"It is so green, my eyes will bleed soon," someone groaned behind her, and Frida felt her mouth curl into a small smile, as she walked slowly over the green airy moss, her feet sinking a little every time she took a step.

This was such a mysterious place. Over to the right she could see more sharp mountains cutting into the sky, carving an edge into Frida's vision, not allowing her to see what was on the other side. To her left, a vast plain area of green fields painted their way for her eyes, only to end up in even more dark mountains, again hindering the small group from seeing what was on the other side.

The air was very quiet, and she felt as if a couple of unfamiliar eyes followed them as they continued along, treading still into the strange land. It was like a dream, walking here, viewing all this wild nature spire before their eyes, and Frida soon noticed how sharp rocks penetrating the green softness were spread over the lush landscape around them.

"Look!" she heard Floki spit excitedly, "sheep!"

Every one of the Vikings, including Frida, shot their eyes to the direction Floki was pointing, and several of them gaped in awe. Over by one of the rocks, a rather large herd of sheep were grassing peacefully.

Not one of the small fluffy grey animals had noticed the cautious Vikings that suddenly started to move in on them, silently.

Frida kept her distance and watched as Floki, Faxe, Torulf and the other Vikings made a surprise attack, managing to catch several of them before they all scattered over the greenery. They killed two of them and kept the rest in leashes.

The group soon noticed a small gurgling river that was carved into the green moss to their side, and when they found that it was not saltwater that ran it in, they decided to follow it to see where it would bring them. But as soon as they reached the edge of what seemed like a large forest, they all felt like settling in for the night.

Even though the place seemed largely safe, they still made a fire between the trees, just in case any one of the people living here would spot them. But it was strange, it did not seem like there were any people here.

The silence was so deafening and the nature so undisturbed, Frida could not imagine there being anyone here. If people lived in this land, would they not have made a harbor where her and the rest of the group had closed in with their boat?

The coast seemed so perfectly fit for boats and harboring, she was sure the people would have made homes here. But as much as she wanted to believe that no one was there to face a threat to the small group of survivors these Northmen resembled, Frida still had a sense lingering over her skin of unfamiliar eyes watching her.

A chill ran down her spine as she sat by the bonfire after having eaten their first meal since coming here. She had always enjoyed the taste of lamb, and it was like this particular meat tasted even better. But that was perhaps because she had not eaten anything else but dried fish the last many days.

The group was silent for a while, but when the sun was starting to fall down over the Western mountain ridge, the handsome Northman named Faxe suddenly spoke: "If we circled over the ocean, we might have reached the Northern part of Nordvejen*?"

Frida shot her eyes to Floki, when he giggled devilishly.

He had pulled a fur over his head, inhaling his face in a warm cover, hiding his eyes from the rest of the group. "This is not Nordvejen, " he said with a giggle on his lips, "I am sure."

Frida let her eyes roam back to Faxe who was staring hard at Floki. "Yeah?" Faxe said with irritation in his tone, "and how can you be certain?"

Floki spat out something between a snarl and a giggle, before laying down with his back over the soft moss, making himself comfortable with a few movements before curling further into his fur.

It was warm enough for them to sleep outside, so they did not bother to put up a tent and chose to sleep outside in the open around the fire. Few words were shared between the members of the small group camped at the edge of the foreign forest, and they all soon silenced into an exhausted sleep.

Before lying down, Frida scooted herself over to Floki and laid herself down next to him. She could not hear him breathing.

During the night, the sheep bound to a large tree close to them were noisy, and Frida's sleep was very restless. She had a dream where visions of white foxes would stare at her, gapingly, as she jumped over lush green waves. She only awoke when Floki suddenly appeared before her eyes on the field in her dream, staring at her intently through his black circles, but Frida found herself screaming in fear when she saw that his eyes had turned white, his embers gone, making him appear blind as she screamed at him, before his eyes would roll down to stare at her, a devilish curl on his lips soon prevalent.

Frida woke up covered in sweat, and she gasped for air as her eyes flew open.

A quick scan around the camp told her that everyone was still sleeping safely. Everyone except Floki.

Frida felt panic spread in her blood as her eyes quickly roamed over their surroundings without encountering any sight of him. She rose to her feet in a swift movement, and stretched her arms into the air in a quick notion. Her muscles were sore from their journey, and her mouth felt as dry as sand as she took a couple of steps further into the forest, searching for any sign of Floki.

The air was so different in this land, she could not help but to shoot her eyes from side to side, wondering why she felt so alien here.

But when she let her eyes travel to the tree tops, she realized what was wrong.

There were no birds?!

Not even a single chirp from a bird was heard, even as she walked deeper into the forest, and she felt the hairs in her neck stand as she tasted the burned taste on her tongue once again. She felt a slight nausea travel to her throat, and she tried to gulp down but her mouth was completely dried out.

A small but determined sound of someone whistling rang for her ears for a mere second, and Frida immediately crouched down on the forest floor, frantically searching for the source of the sound. When Frida connected her eyes with Floki's circled ones, she sighed out in relief.

She could sense a certain eager light shining from his dark embers, and she furrowed her brows at him when she saw him waving at her. He wanted her to come over.

He put his finger over his lips, signing for her to be quiet. Frida could hear her blood rushing for her ears as she silently slid her way over to the bushes where Floki was hiding, and she grabbed his arm immediately when she reached him, pulling herself close enough to him that she could smell his musky scent. She felt his eyes burning at hers for a short moment, but she kept hers on the ground. He soon snorted at her before turning his eyes to the left side of the bush.

He nodded for her to look too.

Frida carefully crawled closer to the bush, and carefully reached her arm up to pull some of the dark green flowers to the side. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open as she viewed what Floki had discovered.

Down a small hill of the green moss field, two houses seemed to be carved out of the mountain side. They grew out of the ground like a caves under the earth, with green moss covering their roofs, making it hard to see their edges against the overwhelmingly green surroundings. Frida narrowed her eyes as she heard Floki breathe out as if he was troubled, when a man suddenly came walking from the other side of the green hill.

He was strolling towards the houses casually, his hair flaming red and his beard shaved off. He was wearing a thick grey wool sweater, and in his hand he was carrying a dead hen.

Frida could hear both her and Floki's heartbeat as they watched him in silence.

They both stared at him as he walked over to grab a knife which he used for slicing the hen's throat. Then he poured the blood into a small bowl on a wood log that was probably his table, before he placed both the chicken and the bowl over at what looked like a square rock, where other things were placed like flowers, bread, and herbs and so, and Frida wrinkled her forehead, tilting her head at the sight in front of her.

Was the man making an offering?

She sensed Floki doing a weird movement in front of his head with his hands, and Frida wondered whether he was thinking the same as her.

Were these people Vikings like them? Were they somewhere completely foreign to them in the North?

"Should we speak to him?" Frida whispered inaudibly, only for Floki to hear, staring intently at his features.

His eyes were burning. "We don't know how many are in there," he breathed silently, nodding slowly at the houses.

Frida stared intently at the man, how he stood in front of the square rock, looking down upon the many, what seemed to be, offerings that lay there. She wished she could see his face.

A sudden thunder crashed over the sky, startling Floki and Frida heavily, and they quickly retreated down into the bushes.

Frida felt the vibrations of the lightning in the air, and she dared to peep her eyes out of the shrubbery once more. She noticed that the man was looking into the sky now, and he had raised his hands.

Frida sighed in awe as rain soon fell from the sky, quickly dissolving their view into humid drops of water, blurring their eyes as they tried to see the foreign man.

When Frida's eyes finally hovered over to the red haired man, she widened them in fear as she saw him staring right back at her.

She gulped down and quickly bowed her head down under the leaves again. She shut her eyes hard.

"He saw me," Frida breathed in a shaky tremble, her lips already frowning shakily.

Floki hissed out and quickly crouched out from the bushes, leaving her alone in the green shrubbery. She breathed out.

What had she done?

* * *

 ***Nordvejen: (Norway) The old Danish way of saying Norway – in Old Norse it is 'Norðvegr' which basically means The North Way.**


	68. Chapter 68

**Hi guys! Here's the new chapter of Frida! I hope you enjoy. Skål!**

* * *

Frida and Floki had hurriedly made their way back to the camp to warn the others that the people living here now were aware of their presence. And the other Northmen had immediately come to life when they told them what had happened, stirring around in the little camp to gather their belongings and weapons, preparing themselves for whatever was coming their way.

It was not long before Frida found herself hiding behind yet another lush shrubbery, with Floki right by her side, breathing into her ear as they both stared out from the green leaves and into the wet landscape before them.

She could feel his hand hovering over her back, and she turned to look at him, his face painted like a warrior's. His eyes were squinted at the green field stretching out from the forest, concern obvious in his every feature, and she felt guilt wash up in her mouth, a sour taste spreading over her tongue as she too turned to look at the green field in front of them.

She had been careless, curious. And now, the few Northmen that were left of their crew all sat crouched down in the bushes, hiding from whatever was coming their way.

The red-haired man was probably already gathering his men to fight off the raiders that had embarked on their territory.

The rain was still very heavy, falling down over them from the bright skies like a waterfall, and Frida strained her eyes to see any differing colors in the landscape before them, but all she could see was a blur of wetness and green. She hoped that the gods were still with them.

A tense sigh sounded from several of the men around her when something moved out over the field, and Frida quickly bent her head and narrowed her eyes at the movement. It was the red-haired man. He was… alone?

She heard one of the Vikings snort as they watched the redhead ride slowly and lonely forth over the green field on probably the smallest horse Frida had ever seen in her life. She could tell that he was searching for them, his head turned intriguingly from side to side as he rode slowly closer to them, and before long, the man chose to break the tense silence that prevailed among them, his voice carving through the air like a warning.

But Frida could not hear what he was saying, his words blurred by the heavy rain and the distance between them. She felt Floki bending slightly forward next to her, attentive.

The man shouted at them again, his voice clearer now, but Frida still could not make out what he was saying. His words sounded strange and very throaty, and it took her a while to realize that he was not speaking Norse. He was speaking a language that she had not heard for a very long time.

While straining her ears, she bent even closer to the green leaves that were the edges of the bush she and Floki was hiding in, and she felt the blood rush in veins when she recognized one of the words that left the red-haired man's lips: "Woman!"

Frida furrowed her brows heavily. How far had they really drifted during the storm?

As the redhead rode closer to them, he shouted the word once more, and Frida turned her eyes to look at Floki who had raised his axe in front of him. Just as Frida opened her mouth to let Floki know what the man was saying, because she was sure he did not understand him like she did, however, Floki shot out from the bushes.

Frida felt her heart skip a beat as she realized that the rest of the Northmen followed his notion, and she felt fear spread over her skin as she saw how the red-haired man came to a stop on the field in front of them as the Vikings appeared before him. She could see fear shining from his eyes too now, the small horse he was sitting on trotting a few steps back.

The silence between the men was loud in her ears.

She heard the man shouting something at them, but she could not tell what. The language that he spoke was not her mother's tongue, and it had been such a long time since she had listened to anyone speaking it. But she easily recognized the throaty twists of this language, and images from what seemed like an old life flashed before her eyes in short and quick lights.

A hard gush of air escaped her lips before she finally had the courage to step forward from the bushes too. Floki, who had raised his axe for the man to keep his distance, hissed at her as she walked to his side, and he gave her a small push with his arm, urging for her to stay back.

But Frida kept her eyes on the foreign man in front of them, and she could see how his eyes widened when he saw her. She strained her mind heavily to find a word in his language, but she did not remember much.

As she took a step forward, she raised her hand at him, shouting: "Greetings!"

She felt all of the eyes of the Northmen turning to her, and she heard Floki hissing at her from behind. She took another step towards the man who was staring at her intently, and she noticed a relieved smile curling in the side of his mouth. The tension was still thick between the group of Northmen and the redhead, and Frida turned to send Floki and the rest an assuring smile.

"Be calm," she whispered before turning back to the man.

She felt Floki following her every movement, and she knew that he did not like the situation. "Is he a Saxon?" he hissed out in a silent whisper.

Frida shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes on the red-haired man.

"Wherefrom you come?" she managed to comprehend between the still heavy drops of the rain and the throaty words of the foreign man.

But she did not know how to answer him so she just pointed to the direction of their boat.

"Peace?" she tried in a nervous tone, her eyes roaming back to the Vikings behind her.

She could easily understand why the foreign man was hesitant. Her group of men looked dangerous, weapons and ink paint so Norse and different from what he must have seen in his lifetime, she tried to send him a smile. They did not have to be enemies.

Frida suddenly felt Floki grabbing her arm, and she was soon pulled angrily back behind him, his eyes burning heatedly at her. She felt anger starting to boil in her veins too now, as Floki once more hissed at her. "What are you saying?"

Frida sighed out heavily. "He has not come to hurt us, Floki, or else he would not have come alone."

Her eyes shortly connected with Faxe's, and she could see curiosity spire from his eyes. "Ask him where we are," he urged in a low whisper, and Frida nodded her head at him before turning back to the redhead.

The tension was still so thick, she was sure it could almost be sliced with a knife.

She cleared her throat, as she tried to remember more words that the man would understand. This language was very difficult. "Éire?" she managed, and she could see the redhead widening his eyes at her, his horse suddenly taking a few steps in her direction.

This, however, caused most of the Vikings beside her to raise their weapons slightly, and the man stopped promptly. He slowly started to shake his head, his eyes ever shifting between the men around her in nervous movements, and Frida felt a growing wish that she could speak to the man without them being there.

She knew that he was not there to harm them. She could feel it.

"Isle of…" she heard him say, but she did not recognize the name.

Had he said _Thule_?

Frida did not even realize the strange face she was making before she sensed Faxe stepping up next to the her. Curiosity shone from his eyes like small bonfires, and for a short moment he kind of reminded her of Ragnar.

She felt a short flinch of pain crossing through her heart. She wished he was here with her.

"So?" Faxe pressed.

Frida looked at the foreign man once more, and she turned her head slightly at him. "Thule?" she asked in a light voice.

The redhead nodded, earning for her to sigh out and turn back to the Northmen that were staring at her impatiently.

She bit her lip. "He, uh…" she started out cautiously, not knowing how exactly to bring them the new information, "he says we are at the end of the world."

Her eyes turned to lock with Floki's. His embers were burning ever so brightly at her from his dark circles, she had to tear hers away from him again.

Had they really reached the end of the known world? Would they ever be able to go back?

 _"By a route obscure and lonely,_  
 _haunted by ill angels only,_  
 _where a spirit named Night,_  
 _on a black throne reigns upright."_

 _"I have reached these lands but newly_  
 _from an ultimate dim Thule._  
 _From a wild weird clime, that lieth, sublime,_  
 _out of space and out of time."*_

* * *

 ***This is actually from a poem by my favorite American author, Edgar Allan Poe, but I thought it appropriate here even though it is not Norse. Sorry to those who find this "out of place" for the story. More information will follow in the next chapter, but I still wish to keep the location secret. ;) Has any of you figured out where they are?**


	69. Chapter 69

**Hi guys! I hope you're enjoying your spring. We have amazing weather here in Denmark at the moment, the gods are truly smiling down upon us ;)**

 **I hope you enjoy the 69th chapter of Frida! Skål!**

* * *

The air hung very still and heavy in the dark room, and it filled Frida's nostrils with a stale and nauseating smell, like the air had been hovering in there for far too long. It made her eyes prickle slightly, and the smoldering fire that crackled slowly under a strange fireplace that sent the smoke up into a long shallow hole in the earth at the foot of the mountain had a vein pounding achingly at her right temple, earning for her to already long for the air outside, even though that too tasted burned.

She longed for water or some ale, but the strange red-haired man had not yet offered them anything.

She let her eyes roam back to his flaming head, and she watched him as he opened a small wooden chest, pulling an old looking roll of parchment out, looking at it for a few blinks with the eye, before turning around to join the Northmen and Frida at his round wooden table. Only her, Floki, Faxe, Torulf and Herjulf had entered the redhead's small house under the mountain, while the few others waited outside.

After their rather tense first encounter, Frida had managed to convince the Vikings that the man meant them no harm.

She had understood his language as much as to know that he was a Gaelic monk who had come to this Isle, which was known between the monks as Thule, with his father when he was a child. And they had made a small place for themselves to live, but it was harder than they had expected. And then he had told them that he had a map.

An illustration, a drawing of where this Isle was placed in the world. But some of the Northmen were skeptical.

They did not believe the redhead still, thinking that he would lure them into some sort of trap.

But the red-haired man was alone. The other monk that he had been living with had died some time ago, that's what he had told them, but Frida did not understand the reason for it. She thought he had said something with running earth on fire, but that did not make any sense, so she thought she might have misheard him.

The red-haired man whose name was Egan walked slowly over to place the piece of parchment on the wooden table close to Floki. Frida curled her lips a little as she bent forward to get a better look at the roll of parchment.

She had explained to Egan that Floki was their leader, earning for him to be very cautious of Floki all of the time, looking at him when he spoke even though it was only Frida who could understand him.

As Egan started loosening the small leather strap that held the roll together, Frida let her eyes roam to his face. He had very carved features, like he was made of wood, and over the pale skin of his edgy face small red dots were spread heavily about, causing him to look sunburnt over his pointy nose. His eyes were green like the moss outside, and even his eyelashes were red as flames like his wild hair.

Frida stared in awe as Egan slowly folded out the piece of parchment, revealing a gorgeously painted image of a giant blue mass with small brown forms and edges. They were different lands.

To the far East a great amount of isles was placed, and Frida narrowed her eyes to see the scripture that was written over it, but she could not comprehend it.

Egan pointed his thin finger to the same isles that Frida had been looking at, and he told them that the largest isles was England. Frida stared at it with widened eyes.

That was England?

It seemed so little and firm on the painting, so unreal and far from her memories of it, as if it was just a small spot on a large blue canvas. It did not show the kingdoms or their quarrels, only the edges of the scattered lands.

So this was a map.

All eyes followed Egan's finger over the thick parchment as it travelled over the map, a dry sound prevailing in the quiet room. You could barely hear the other Northmen outside, the walls were thick like those of a dungeon.

"This," Egan breathed in a slow voice, "is my old land."

His dirty fingernail was pointed to a smaller island next to England, and Frida narrowed her eyes at it, sensing how Faxe too bend closer over the table next to her to get yet a better view of the illustration.

"I wonder if Ragnar and Eysteinn made it to England by now," Faxe shared in a short breath, earning for all eyes to turn to him.

Frida noticed Floki squinting his eyes at Faxe before snorting, and she could see that this was a question that had filled his mind too. A quick image of Lagertha and Ragnar embarking on English ground flashed by for Frida's eyes, and she bit her lower lip.

What if they had not?

She shook her head as to shake out the fears that started to gnaw in the back of her skull, and let her eyes roam back to Egan. His eyes were questioning, awaiting, and she quickly sent him a nod and an apologizing smile to let him know he could continue.

"Where we are," Egan continued in a hesitant tone while tracing his finger North over the map, "is here."

His finger stopped at a large island surrounded by blue at the farest Northeastern corner of the map, and all of the Northmen bent forward to see the isle better.

Frida sighed out when she noticed the distance that lay between this isle and the rest of the brown spots of lands of the map.

They really were at the edge of the world. This isle, the Isle of Thule, was so far away from everything else on the map, it seemed to be the most distanced place known in the world, and she could sense how tension spread through the rest of the Vikings around the table as they too comprehended how far of a distance they had come, if they really were here at the end of the world.

"Where is Kattegat compared to this?" Floki's voice suddenly broke through the silence, and Frida soon locked her eyes with him, as Egan asked her what he had said.

She could see fear shining from his dark embers, but she knew that she felt it too. The same fear that ran through Floki's veins at the moment ran through hers.

What if they had gone so far that they never were to return again? What if they had reached the end of the world to never leave?

She gulped down hard and blinked a couple of times before she could clear her mind of all the troubling questions that Floki seemed to spire in her.

What if Floki's fear had come true? What if they had gone beyond the edges of the Midgård serpent?

A hand over her arm had her shaking her head lightly, Faxe causing her to slip back to reality before she noticed that all eyes were on her. She felt her breath getting caught in her throat.

She cleared her throat before asking: "Do you know of Kattegat?"

The red-haired Egan carved his forehead as his eyes turned to the map once more. "Kattegat?" he tried out in his strange language, his eyes roaming over the parchment in quick notions.

He shook his head. "No, I have not heard of it before."

Frida felt her heart sinking in her chest. That was not a good sign.

She translated Egan's words slowly, but she could see the panic in Floki's eyes when he comprehended the redhead's answer. Frida felt Egan's eyes staring at her as Floki asked another question.

"Tell him they call us Northmen. Has he heard of the North?"

When Frida translated Floki's words into Egan's throaty language, the redhead suddenly took a step back from the table. His eyes were widened, and all of the Northmen stared at him in surprise.

His eyes were flickering between them, and Frida noticed his lower lip trembling a little.

"N… Northmen?" he repeated, this time directly at Frida, and she noticed his eyes travelling down to her painted arm.

She could feel her brows furrowing lightly at him. She had not expected a reaction like that.

She could hear Torulf chuckling a little under his beard. Frida opened her mouth to calm the redhead down, but before she managed to speak, Egan took a quick step forward, speaking directly to Frida in a fearful voice.

"Wotan?"

Frida stared at the man with her mouth hanging open.

Wotan? She had not heard this word before, but just as she turned to Floki to ask him whether he knew what the redhead was talking about, a cold shiver ran down over her spine.

Floki's eyes were burning at the man from his place at the table, his eyes locked on Egan's face and his lips curled into something between a gnarl and a twisted smile, and she was startled when Floki suddenly rose to his feet, earning for the rest around the table to startle in their seats. Floki's lips curled into a wide smile, soon letting a devilish giggle sound into the room.

Before anyone had the time to say anything, Floki snaked his way around the redhead in a swift movement, and Frida let a surprised sigh escape her lips when she suddenly felt him by her side, his hand soon grabbing her arm, pulling it forward for the red-haired man to see.

"Look!" he urged in Norse, his voice seething through his thin lips eagerly as he pulled Egan closer, pointing his finger at Frida's wrist.

Frida quickly realized what Floki was pointing to, and she tilted her head and furrowed her brows when she saw him pointing to the rune that had been painted in-between the snaky roots of her Yggdrasil ink paint on her arm.

It was the Anzus, Odin's rune.

"Wotan," Floki giggled as Egan stepped closer to inspect Frida's arm. She watched his ruddy face as his eyes widened in realization.

The redhead nodded heavily, and he spread his lips in a wide smile. Were they talking about Odin?

Egan chuckled breathily. "You have," he smiled at Frida, "the same god as I."

Frida felt a warmth surge through her body as his words sunk in, and she could not help but to look around in the room nervously, once more getting the feeling that someone was watching her. She let her eyes fall to her wrist, and they roamed for a short moment over the rune of the All-father.

Was Odin watching them?

Frida locked her eyes with Egan's, his light greens shining at her through the thick air of the room, and she smiled.

"Then, maybe he was the one who sent us here."

* * *

 **What do you think?**


	70. Chapter 70

**Hi guys! I just want to let you know how truly grateful I am for all the reviews, favorites and followers. You really make the writing experience so much better, so thank you so much!**

 **Here is the 70th chapter of Frida! Wow, this story is getting a bit long ;) Skål!**

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The island was bigger than what Frida and the Northmen had expected.

Egan had showed them how the mountains that surrounded the far-reaching stretched out fields of green moss led to other kinds of landscapes, landscapes that Frida had never thought in her life existed.

The flaming redhead had showed them what was on the other side of the mountain his house was carved out from, and Frida had not believed her eyes when she had seen all the white ice rocks that seemed to pierce through invisible water, and never had she tasted water so clean and fresh than the water they had drunk from this cool spring.

They had seen great fjords, waterfalls and many mountains. The earth seemed so vibrant here, so mysterious and surprising, and she could not help but to ask herself whether it was Balder himself that had carved out this place in the beginning of time.

It was a place more beautiful than anywhere else she had been during her life.

However, it was a very rough place as well. There were not really beasts of prey here, yet, you still had to be cautious with every moving step of your foot, as one singe wrongly placed footstep could cause great injuries. Egan had told them that he broke a bone in his leg once when he was travelling to a spring to fetch clean water for his dying father, as they were moving over a rocky and difficult path, and Frida stared fearfully at the sharp rocks that were the ground beneath her feet.

A cold chill ran over her skin, and she slowed down a bit while letting her eyes hover over the sky above. The sun was still shining bleakly behind the big whiteness, and another chill ran over her skin when a very cold wind suddenly hit her face.

It came from the Northern mountains, licking their snowy tops before rolling down into the valley they were crossing, causing them all to shiver. It felt more like winter than summer.

Egan had promised to show them one last things before they were to return to prepare their longboat for leaving, a special sort of spring that could only be found in this island. At least, that was what Egan told them.

And on their way there, he told them many things of life here in the isle of Thule, his achievements, his struggles for survival. And while Frida had translated his every word to the Vikings, she found herself wondering to herself why this man, even after the death of his father and friends, had chosen to stay.

As she took Floki's outstretched hand and quickly climbed a steep rock formation, her eyes turned to the red-haired man's face. His shining green eyes held lots of hope in them, pride even, as he let them further along the harsh path.

She cleared her throat with a burned taste on her tongue. "Can I ask you something, Egan?"

His greens turned to her and rested over her face for a short moment before he turned his eyes back to the landscape in front of them. He nodded.

Heavy breaths sounded loudly between the small group of people as they moved further ahead.

"Have you ever thought about… leaving?"

She could feel Floki's burning stare on her face, but she avoided looking at him, keeping her eyes on the ground below. He was walking silently beside her.

While Egan simply kept his gaze in front of him, she heard him sighing out in a small puff of air. She noticed his shoulders falling a bit.

"I came here in the promise of being closer to the gods. Even though I have lost… people, I still feel a very close connection to this place. It is my home."

His voice was light and throaty, and it made her feel strangely lonely. She felt her brows furrowing.

"And you?" Egan's voice prevailed once more in front of her, "Why did you leave your land?"

Frida's eyes shot to Egan, and she could see a small curl in the corner of his lips. She opened her mouth to say something, but she could not remember any words. Not in Gaelic, English or Norse.

She heard Egan chuckling. "I figured," he continued, "Since you speak my language and they do not, you must come from somewhere different. Am I right?"

Frida could feel a smile breaking out over her lips, and she giggled breathily as she climbed another steep rock. "Perhaps," she smiled teasingly, "but my home is theirs too."

Egan chuckled once more, his eyes still stuck on the hill in front of them, and silence soon feel over the small group of men. They all continued over the hill without speaking words for quite a while, until Egan suddenly came to a stop, just as they reached the top of the hill.

He nodded in a Southern direction. "Down there," he breathed lightly, as if the journey had not worn him out one bit, "are the warm springs."

When the rest of the group were finally able to look down the hill, they all came to an abrupt stop.

The entire landscape seemed to change on the other side of the hill, as if a whole new world grew from its top, dissolving all the greens into a brown and grey world of sand, and over the wavy ground of this new landscape were several holes from where heavy white clouds of steam rose and whirled with the wind.

Frida gulped down as she took another step further. She could easily feel the heat that rose from the earthy valley.

"What by Odin's beard are those clouds?" Faxe's voice soon sounded as soon as they started to climb down the hill towards the otherworldly landscape.

Frida could see the curiosity and eagerness shining from his eyes, and it made her smile.

"Warm springs, I think," she tried out nervously, but could not help but to gaze at the strange clouds too continuously, intriguingly.

The whirling of the wind made the white clouds roll over the wavy landscapes like it was a sky on its own, on the ground, and as soon as they had made their way down the hill and closed themselves to one of the holes, she finally understood what a warm spring was.

The holes in the ground were really small lakes, filled with what seemed like thick water that beamed with such a heat, it sent steam puffing into the air constantly, as if the holes, the earth, were breathing with smoke. Beneath the white clouds you could just manage to get a glimpse of the water, a grey substance flowing vibrantly around in the hole. Were they to drink this?

But before Frida could manage to ask, as she turned her eyes to Egan, she widened her eyes when she saw him loosening his shoes. She curled her brows and sent strange eyes to Floki.

Floki snorted with his head tilted at Egan.

When Egan pulled off his shoes, he finally realized that all of the others' eyes were on him, questioningly. "What?" he chuckled, "Come, we will bathe, no?"

Frida felt her cheeks blushing when the redhead pulled off his shirt, and she quickly turned her face to the Northmen beside her. She noticed Faxe already untying his shoes too.

"He, uh. We are to bathe in these springs," she breathed carefully, and she quickly felt Floki's burn on her face.

While Torulf, Herjulf and Egan readily jumped into the grey water, Floki and Frida hesitated by its edges. His eyes were still burning her, and she soon felt uncomfortably warm standing in the steamy cloud.

"Come on," Torulf smiled from the spring, "It feels amazing!"

But Frida bit her lip, and took a step backwards. Floki soon stepped a bit closer to her so she could just feel the calloused skin of his hands over her soft one.

"We can also just wait, if…" Floki started out in a nervous breath, but Frida soon waved her hand at him, smiling at his curtesy.

"Floki, please, no, you jump right in. I'll just wait…" Frida and Floki's eyes locked for just a short moment, before he turned his eyes to the group of men in the water. She noticed his eyes especially lingering on Egan.

He lifted his hands and turned his finger in a circle at the men. "Look away," he seethed through his teeth, his dark eyes burning at Egan, "you too."

Frida felt her cheeks burning even more when she understood what Floki was doing. He quickly untied his outer fur, and stretched it out to hinder the group of men in the spring to see her, before closing his eyes shut. She felt embarrassed for a quick moment, but she soon dared to uncover herself.

If the words that Egan had spoken were true, she would never see a warm spring like this again.

That was, if she never was to return here.

Floki followed her very respectfully to the edge of the spring, and Frida carefully climbed down into the hole, the hot water soon caressing her skin like silk, covering her entire body but to her head. She felt a slight pressure over her entire body.

Floki made a quick whistling sound, notioning to the other men that they did not have to look away anymore. The water was so thick, it was impossible to see through it, and Floki soon glided in to join the others in the grey liquids, and a long calm silence grew over the small group.

As cold as the wind had made her bones, as warm was she now, hovering soothingly in the vibrant hot water, and she could not help but to stretch her legs out as she sat there on a warm rock under the water's surface and was startled when her foot touched something on the other side.

She sighed out in surprise, and noticed Egan making a startled jump too in his seat there in the spring, and she felt another wave of embarrassment washing over her when she realized her foot had stroked over Egan's leg.

Her hand flew to cover her mouth. "I'm sorry!" she rushed, feeling her cheeks burn with heat.

Egan's eyes shot over to Floki, and he raised his hands into the air, in a sort of surrendering motion.

Frida sighed out when Floki made a snarling sound at the redhead, and she knew that it was time to leave the water.

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 **Let me know what you think :D**


	71. Chapter 71

Their boat had taken surprisingly few damages on their long and storm-filled journey to the isle of Thule, but of course, there were many preparations they needed to make before they were to cross the ocean once more to return home. They could stay longer, Egan had raised enough cattle on the island to feed them all for a whole year, but they all felt homebound, more and more restless sleeps in the light nights on Thule, and it was starting to take a toll on all of them.

Questions filled all their heads, questions of whether they were to return to the North at all, questions of the storm that had separated them from the rest of the boats, questions of whether those boats had ever gotten to cross the ocean to go to England, or if they had even gotten to float at all.

Egan was helping all of the men out, and while Frida sat in the tall grass of the beach near their boat, occasionally hovering her eyes up from her eager sowing of the small cuts in the sail to look at the men roaming around the boat in front of her.

She felt a slight warmth of hopefulness spire in her core, soothing her limbs lightly, but it was shadowed by a gnawing fear in the back of her skull, a fear of not seeing him again.

So much could have happened to him, to Bjørn, to… to her children.

Her fears had her turning her eyes to the bleak sky above her, and she found herself praying to the gods for their safe return. She was so carried away by her anguish that she did not even notice Faxe approaching her, but as soon as she felt him sit down beside her, her eyes rolled back to reality.

She blinked a few times before letting them hover to Faxe's handsome face, and she saw him gazing at her with concern in his greyish eyes, and he soon lifted a hand to nudge Frida's arm.

"My queen, are you alright?" he spoke in soft words. His nose was very straight.

Frida nodded her head in a smile. "Yes, of course, I was… I am only worried about our journey home, that is all," she smiled at him in a breath, fear still gnawing at the back of her skull.

"Hm," Faxe nodded, before turning his eyes to the sea, "It's just, I've… I've seen you doing that a couple of times now."

Frida bent slightly forward to raise her brow at him questioningly. "Doing what?"

Faxe furrowed his brows at her, his lips curling at her slightly as if not quite following her words. "You know," he nodded at her, his hands pointing to his eyes, "This."

Faxe rolled his eyes at her, showing their whites only.

A quick image of Floki doing the same thing flashed before her eyes.

Had she done that too?

Frida reached up her hand to cover her cheek, self-conscious all of a sudden. She heard Faxe chuckling under his breath, and she looked at him with confused eyes.

She noticed small pearls of sweat under the line of his hair. It was rather cold outside.

"So," Faxe continued, breaking the awkward silence that had slowly fallen between them, "How will we ever describe the beauty of this place to the people of Kattegat?"

Frida sighed out in a smile and let her eyes fall to the grass below her, its green lush light almost like glowing at her in the bleakness of the sun. She let her eyes fall back to the antlers that rose from the stems of their boat. A smile curled her lips.

"Floki will do it justice," she stated bluntly, still a smug curl on her lips.

She could sense Faxe staring at her. A long moment of silence preceded her words, but much was being said between them. Frida could feel Faxe's curiosity burning from inside him, beaming with heat like a slow fire, and she could feel his vigor, his youthfulness, his passion.

Faxe was not done with this place at all.

She had seen it in his eyes every time Egan had shown them the secrets of this isle, every time they had experienced something that was rare everywhere else in the world, every time Frida had translated Egan's words.

She heard Faxe sighing next to her, and she stopped her sowing, looking at him seriously. "The gods will let you return here, Faxe, if that is their will. But we need you to get home safe, I hope you know that."

When Frida saw how Faxe's face twisted in something between embarrassment and honesty, she knew that she had touched something in his heart with her words. She was right.

His eyes were almost apologetic when they turned back to hers, and his shoulders seemed to drop as he nodded at her firmly. "Yes, my queen, I know that Kattegat awaits me."

He rose to his feet and turned his eyes to the boat once more.

"For now," he added in a smug smile before leaving her at the grassy edge of the beach and making his way through the sand in long strides to help the men make the last preparations.

Frida smiled even though she felt something that reminded her of loneliness filling her chest. A song prevailed on her lips as she continued stitching the small cuts of the heavy sail, a lonely song that she had only heard once or twice before. However, the words came to her easily, as if it had been with her ever since she heard it for the first time:

"Little child, you're on your way to slumber land.  
Suddenly, you meet a strange man.  
He brings you along, over across the waters deep,  
until you reach a foreign beach.  
Like in the old songs,  
is what you see.  
Here are wicked trolls and good elves,  
you want to see more.

As the light breaks through,  
as the light breaks through,  
It's like being home,  
like being home."

Without Frida noticing, the rest of the group listened to her lonely voice that stretched itself over to them on the beach, and they worked while hearing its story, all of them suddenly deep in thought. Egan especially was very attentive.

"The beautiful house high up on a hill,  
only the narrow path can take you there.  
A powerful stroke of the vulture's wings,  
dead rats are plentiful here.  
Like in the old songs,  
is what you see.  
All is fed and preen their feathers,  
you want to see more.

As the light breaks through,  
as the light breaks through,  
It's like being home,  
like being home."

Frida thought that she could feel the distance between her and Ragnar, the long journey that she knew separated them over the deep sea.

It carved a hole in her chest and made her feel vulnerable. She could not wait to feel his eyes on her again.

"The sweet wine has overthrown the boy completely,  
he gathers tears in a golden bucket.  
A treasure buried in a great hole,  
Wherein even the thief fell down, he was so drunk.  
Like in the old songs,  
is what you see.  
A sinful soul flew away but here remains many more,  
you want to see more

As the light breaks through,  
as the light breaks through,  
It's like being home,  
like being home."*

Frida was done with the sail just around the time the men were done preparing the boat. Food and furs had been piled up at the stems, and the remaining shields had been placed properly again around the railing.

When Frida made her way down to the boat, a sudden cry had her jumping on her feet in surprise. Egan's voice soon sounded in astonishment.

"What is this bird?!"

All of the Vikings turned their eyes to the redhead, and a nervous chuckle was soon heard from Floki. Floki pointed to the bird cage and looked at him questioningly.

"This?" he giggled, and Frida soon followed Egan's astonished stare too, her eyes soon roaming to the bird cage.

She gazed at the black eyes of the raven sitting inside the cage for a short moment before she heard Egan's excited voice again. "Frida, you tell me, what is the name of this bird?"

Frida furrowed her brows as a wide smile spread over her lips. Several of the Northmen started chuckling under their beards too now as they understood what was going on.

"The bird?" she smiled, "We call it a raven."*

Egan widened his eyes only to let them fall back to the raven. "Oh, I see," he sighed as he took a couple of steps around the cage to see it properly.

"Raven," he repeated carefully, clasping his hands together excitedly over his grey woolen shirt.

She heard Faxe laughing.

Floki lifted the cage to make it easier for Egan to see it, and the raven spread its wings confusedly as the cage moved, causing another sigh to sound from Egan's lips. Frida saw how Floki's eyes burned like fires.

The two men, the tall leather-armored man and the short red-haired one looked at each other for a short while, before Egan whispered: "Raven-Floki. May you live as long as you want, but not want as long as you live."

Frida stared in silence as the words left his mouth, words of goodbye but also words of recognition, and it took her a while to notice how all eyes had turned to her. She shook her head quickly, nodding before she translated. She felt something warm in her heart, before they said their goodbyes.

It was strange looking back at the isle as the boat distanced itself rapidly from the green isle of mountains, the isle of Thule, seeing Egan's sole figure standing there, waving them off for a good and safe journey home.

His flaming red hair was visible for a while, but it soon disappeared in the immersion of green and black, and the island appeared small and edgy with all its pointy mountains reaching into the bleak summer sky.

Frida felt relieved somehow to have left the island, and it was not long before she turned her eyes to the dark ocean that stretched itself out in front of them, holding the rosy stone of her necklace in a tight clasp between her fingers.

She wished for them to return home safely, even though their numbers were few. They had to.

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 *** To listen to the song in Danish: type** "Sebastian – Når Lyset Bryder Frem" **in youtube. It's rather old but is very Danish to me, and it reminds me of the stories from the sagas, so I thought it very appropriate here.**

 *** Raven: in Danish we say "ravn" – kinda like saying "Raul" but with an 'n' at the end, and a very throaty 'r' at the beginning.**


	72. Chapter 72

**Hello? *** staring out from a dark cave made of exam-nightmares *****

 **I'm finally through with my exams and returned as fast as I could to write a chapter. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, if I did, but I hope you like this new chapter of Frida. Oh, and who is excited for the next part of season 4? Meeeeee**

* * *

"Go you must.  
No guest shall stay  
in one place forever.  
Love will be lost  
if you sit too long  
at a friend's fire."*

"Boat!"

"Boat incoming!"

The sound of a single horn blared forcefully into the bleeding sky as the last rays of the summer sun still reached over the fjord from the Western horizon, warming the dry air that was thick with dust of summer flowers.

Frida inhaled deeply even though it tickled her nose, breathing in the different aromas that the lazy evening breeze carried and feeling a familiar warmth spread through her body from her stomach.

Salt, poppies and birch. Clean.

When she heard Floki hissing out a nervous giggle, a wide smile prevailed over her lips, and she finally opened her eyes to look at her home that was growing bigger and bigger as their boat moved silently closer into the fjord of Kattegat.

Most of the other boats were already back. They waved silently over the still waters of Kattegat's harbor as if they had never really left, and Frida felt a strong impatience growing in her chest as she saw villagers appearing from around the cottages, scouting out over the still waters to the sole boat that slowly came closer, its black raven flag falling lazily from the top of the mast.

It was not long before the villagers recognized the flag, and the Vikings in the boat soon heard them cheering for their return. Frida let a relieved sigh escape her lips.

She was finally home.

...

Frida could not imagine for a person to feel more happiness pump through their veins than she currently did as she sat in her chair later that day, in the long-hall, her eyes wandering thoughtlessly around the crowd of people in front of her that were scattered around the tables eating, drinking, laughing.

A wonderful and excited air gushed vividly through the room, touching all of the faces that Frida had longed to see for so long.

Lagertha sat at one of the tables, talking laughingly with some of the other shieldmaidens, while Bjørn was sitting next to Ingeborg, apparently in a deep conversation with his uncle and the Geat king over a cup of mead. Athelstan was listening smilingly to a story that was being told at his table, and over by the fire, all of the children sat with their own bowl of porridge while giggling sweetly from Elisef's singing.

Frida locked her eyes with a couple of mossy green ones, and she felt her heart fill with warmth when Ragnhildir waved her little hand excitedly up at her mother and father. Frida sent a short wave back before she felt strong arms snake around her arms to hug her.

Ragnar's smell travelled up Frida's nostrils and filled her body with fires as he hugged her tight. She leaned her forehead against his cheek and let another relieved breath escape her lips. She was so happy to be back here beside her husband, so happy to see the smiles of her children light up her entire world once more, happy to see that the storm that had separated the boats that were to sail together to England had only swallowed very few men.

Ragnar's voice was gentle and travelled deep into Frida's body when he whispered into her ear. "Look at our boys, love, how they are so alike. I cannot express how happy you have made me. And how relieved I am of your return."

Frida felt goosebumps spread over her skin, and she smiled widely when her eyes roamed over her two baby boys, Halfdan and Ragnvald, down by the fire. They had grown so quickly.

"I, my love, am so happy too. We should make a sacrifice to the gods tomorrow. Thank them for bringing us all together again."

Ragnar huffed out an agreeing smile and turned his eyes to the crowd in front of them, soon rising to his feet. As Ragnar raised his drinking horn into the air, the joyful chatter in the room soon grew silent, and all eyes turned to the Danish king, excited and impatient. Frida felt impatience growing in her stomach too, even though she knew what Ragnar was going to say.

The air was thick with heat.

"Friends! Family. I think that now, we have had time to fill our bellies and hearts with all that we could desire. As all of you know, Floki's boat returned to Kattegat today, thank the gods."

Ragnar waved his horn down at Frida, and she felt her cheeks blush when all eyes turned to her. "But!" Ragnar continued in a dramatic voice, raising his hands at the crowd that started cheering, "Floki and his men not only made sure of the queen's safe return, they came back with new knowledge, knowledge of a place that is yet unknown by the common man. Floki?"

When all eyes turned to Floki, his dark encircled eyes widened in surprise, and he let his head fall between his shoulders in a quick movement, as if to hide himself from the crowd. Frida noticed Helga whispering something to him.

Ragnar waved at the shy Viking once more. "My dear friend, why don't you tell us of your journey yourself, hm? As we all know, you are a better storyteller than me."

Cheering spread through the crowd as Ragnar sat back down on his throne calmly, taking a sip from his horn while keeping his eyes on Floki. Frida saw Helga nudging Floki's shoulder lightly before he rose to his feet to face the awaiting crowd.

His posture was crooked and strange as his eyes travelled around the many faces at the tables, and he took a couple of steps to the left, his long strides carrying him closer to the fire in the middle of the longhall.

His shadowed eyes burned with a strange light. He giggled out mischievously as he pulled out his axe and lifted it into the air, waving it through the air in movements of a wave. Before he spoke, his eyes lingered on Eysteinn Beli and his princess daughter. Frida furrowed her brows but soon heard Floki's curly voice.

"For a strange reason," he started carefully, moving his axe through the air as if it was a boat sailing over the waves, "the storm sent our boat to different seas than our fellow men."

He made a sharp movement with his axe, causing a gasp to sound from a young girl sitting next to him. Floki made a nervous giggle before his eyes turned hard, glaring out over the villagers in the longhall.

"We lost many men. Only eight of us were left when Njord finally let the sun rise over us, and we sailed West, hoping to see the other boats."

Floki started circling around the fire, his eyes locking with Ragnar's before he continued. "We drifted for many nights and days, weeks, nothing but the open sea as far as the eye could reach. But one day," Floki made a small nervous jump, his eyes burning, "Something small appeared in the horizon."

Frida felt excitement rush through her body, and her eyes soon roamed over to Faxe at one of the tables. His handsome face was glowing eagerly.

"From the color of it, we soon realized that we had not come to England. We do not know the island's name, for we seem to be the first ones to have set foot there," Floki breathed, his face turned away for Frida to see.

She furrowed her brows, her lips parting slightly.

What had he just said?

She felt pearls of sweat staring to gather at her hairline as she watched Floki take a step further away from her view, and she stretched her neck to watch him better as he continued.

"And when we did place our feet on this foreign island, we knew that we could not stay for long. We found nothing more than rocks and ice, a dead and grey sky hanging over it and bringing bitter winds during the days as well as the nights."

Frida felt her blood rushing for her ears as she listened to Floki's words, his lies, about their journey to Thule, and she felt panic pounding in her chest, yearning for her to discard his story. When her eyes connected with Faxe, Frida felt her body yanking forward, as his eyes thundered at her with anger and remorse. He wanted to stop Floki too.

But before Frida could do something, she felt something hard push at her chest, and she was soon being forced against the back of her wooden throne. She looked down at her husband's arm that was pushed against her chest, and she furrowed her brows as she turned her eyes to Ragnar's.

She gasped out silently when he pierced her with his ice blue crystals, crashing into her core and ordering her to keep quiet. She shut her lips tight, and gulped down as Ragnar stared at her with hard eyes.

When Frida finally managed to tear her eyes away from him, they quickly travelled down to Faxe again, but she was even more confused when she realized he was no longer sitting in his spot. She shut her eyes hard.

What in the name of all the gods* was going on?

Chills ran down her spine when Floki continued his lying: "No life roamed there, it was more dead and colder than Niflheim*, not even birds could be heard for there were no trees nor even roots. The few mountains, hills, really, of the island were covered in snow, everything grey and white."

Floki breathed loudly before he turned around to face Frida, who stared back at him with widened eyes, smirking devilishly.

Giggling.

"Which is why," he grinned as he turned back around to the fire, "I have named it Ísland.*"

The crowd of people laughed and cheered when Floki bowed down, and they all raised their glass to acknowledge his story even though their journey seemed to have been a simple joke made by the gods.

Frida turned her eyes to Ragnar. He was smiling casually and nodding at some people in the crowd with his drinking horn raised.

Frida breathed out impatiently as he was about to take a sip of ale, but he stopped his horn just by his lips and whispered silently, just for Frida to hear: "He does not trust Beli."

Frida closed her eyes shut.

Laughter and happy chattering was loud in her ears, but all of a sudden seeming unreal to her now, as she took in Ragnar's words. She wanted to ask him questions, but his hand on her arm urged her not to. Not here.

She plastered a forced smile over her lips and turned to the crowd of people in front of her.

Ísland…

* * *

 ***** From The Havamal

 *** FUN FACT - In the name of the gods** (In Danish " **i gudernes navn** "): this is a saying that you still use to this day in Denmark. For example, when saying "Hvad i gudernes navn foregår der?!" This translates to "What in the name of the gods is going on?!" It is pretty funny, I think, that we still have these sayings, even as Christianity took over a thousand years ago.  
Another fun and old Daish saying with the gods: " **Det må guderne vide**." This directly translates to "The gods must know it" but a better translation to English would probably be " **That is up to the gods**." You say this when you have no idea about something. For example, when someone says: "Where does she keep her mugs?" And you shrug your shoulders and go: "The gods must know it." It sounds so stupid in English, but I use it when speaking without even thinking about it.

 *** Niflheim** : One of the nine worlds in Nordic mythology. It is a cold and foggy Northern kingdom/world, in which Hel is placed, actually. There is said to be a dragon there by the name of Nidhug, and one of Yggdrasil's roots drinks from one of Niflheim's rivers (Hvergelmer).

 *** Ísland** : Iceland. Yes, Iceland ;)

 **The funny thing about this chapter is that in Denmark, it is said that the guy who discovered Iceland and Greenland played a joke on the other Vikings. He named the green and lush island Iceland and the icy island Greenland. The Viking who discovered these isles was named Floke Vilgerdssøn (Floki)!**


	73. Chapter 73

**Hi guys! I'm having some trouble finding time to write this story, but I promise I will work as hard as I can. Today, I have decided to share a song with you guys that means a lot to me. It is named** "Frit Land" **and is by the Danish band** Ulige Numre **. 'Ulige numre' means "uneven numbers (or songs)" and the song title means "free country." A lot of young Danes consider this song as a new kind of national anthem because it describes our country very well. I really wanted to share their music with you guys, even though it is only in Danish, because this band is probably my favorite Danish band right now :)**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoy the new chapter of Frida! It might be a bit confusing, and I am sorry for that. I just need this chapter done to carry on with the plot. Skål!**

* * *

"Waving hills  
field, meadow and forest.  
Free country, free country, long live.  
Your brothers are gone,  
your sisters sleeping tight.  
So you have to be brave and stand strong.

If your hand is shaking,  
well, then it will all come crashing in.  
Over the country's boarders,  
into the living room, into my home.  
We shall throw ourselves in the waves  
crashing onto the shore.  
Free country, free on our own.

I will try to see  
the bright idea,  
but the line has to be drawn in the sand.  
Forgive my eyes,  
they only see from my nose down.  
How shall I be able to carry the entire world in my lap?  
The pain of the entire world does not concern mine.  
Free country, free country, my place.

The summer had passed  
when I hurt myself on your thorn,  
all of the most beautiful things hurt.  
From mosquito bites by the lakes  
to the threads in the waves,  
burning her legs.  
We shall throw ourselves in the waves  
crashing onto the shore.  
Free country, free country, my place.  
Free country, free country, freedom."

...

The young man's eyes seemed hard and angry, as he stared at nothing in particular while shedding his newly caught deer from its fur. His hands worked fast and untroubled, and he did not even look at the dead animal in front of him as he loosened the skin from the muscles, only feeling his way forward, as he had done so many times before, only the gods would know the exact number.

The blonde man seemed lost in a different world, his thoughts lost somewhere between Asgård and Hel, his body working thoughtlessly.

Maybe this young man, whose beard had already starting to become thick and his shoulders broad, maybe he was wondering why Tyr chose to lay his hand into the great mouth of Fenrir, when the gods were to tie the beast down, well-knowing that he could lose his hand from it.

Which he eventually did, as the dwarves-made Gleipner was strong enough to hold the beast down.

Or, maybe this young man was not thinking about the gods at all, maybe his thoughts were circling over his coming marriage with the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his blue eyes upon, and how he was to handle not being an entirely free man but a husband of a woman that would bear him children and...

Maybe he feared that he would not make a good husband or father.

The young man's eyes suddenly came to life when someone stepped out of the doors to the long-hall, and his brows furrowed when his eyes roamed to the face of his father.

This was the person his mind had been struggling over, and the young man felt something hardening in his throat, causing him to gulp down hard and lower his eyes to the bucket of blood and intestines that he had placed below his newly caught deer. Bjørn felt his shoulders tensioning as he lifted his eyes to his father once more, who was walking slowly across the path leading to the marketplace.

He stared at him until his figure disappeared behind one of the cottages.

He had always admired his father.

Bjørn snorted before he continued to carve the skin off the deer. Maybe not always.

He had definitely not admired him in the way he had handled his marriage to his mother. However, he also knew that it was childish of him to miss the times when his mother and father was still living happily together, for he knew that that was a time of his life that was over.

It had already been written by the three nuns of Yggdrasil, and their needles were now sowing with a different color.

But sometimes, images of his old life, of his childhood, would flash for his eyes, reminding him of an easier time, a time of innocence and blissfulness. Ignorance.

He snorted.

He still missed Gyda sometimes. She seemed so far away now, he could not recall her smell anymore. There were times when he felt hatred for his father, for not remembering that time. For not remembering her and the special bond that Bjørn had felt so many times between his mother and father.

But he knew that his mother still felt it. He had seen it in her eyes during this summer's raid.

Bjørn had now shed the deer completely of its fur, and he carefully started scraping the inside of the deer's stomach, his knife almost totally silent against the backside of the deer's ribs, removing whatever was left in the core of the animal in front of him. The smell of animal's blood made his nose wrinkle only momentarily.

Ever since his return to Kattegat and to his father, Bjørn had known that the gods had great plans for him. Ragnar had been told by the Seer. But he had never known that he would be joining his father on a journey that was supposed to lead them to Northumbria, however, eventually, leading them to a land further South.

A small smile curled in the corner of his mouth when he thought back to when Floki and Frida had finally returned to Kattegat, and how surprised they both had been when they realized that not only had they themselves returned from a newly discovered island, Ísland, they also returned to find that Ragnar and the other Vikings too had discovered a land they had not known to this warm summer day, as one of Ragnar's ravens finally revealed that land was appearing nearby.

Bjørn remembered how curious his eyes had been when they had approached the oncoming landscape, how excited his heart had pumped inside his chest as they had reached the wide river that had led the many boats inside the land, the entire fleet silent as the earth.

"Is this Northumbria?" Ingeborg had asked him.

But Bjørn could not tell. Something in the air told him otherwise.

Bjørn remembered how his eyes had roamed to his father, and he felt his blood rushing when he saw him in deep conversation with Athelstan further up in the ship.*

His father's eyes were shining with a crazed light, and Bjørn heard blood rushing for his ears when he saw him smiling.

Athelstan had recognized the shapes of the river and the sounds of the trees. He had been in this land before.

Frankia, Bjørn soon discovered.

When they had laid camp further up on the river, Lagertha had soon stepped forward at the small meeting of men, including her, Ragnar, Eysteinn, Bjørn, Ingeborg, Athelstan and Rollo, as they had just discussed the new information that Athelstan had shared with Ragnar. Bjørn had raised his eyebrow at his mother, and he had felt something skip in his heart when he saw the light that was shining from her eyes as she looked around at the group of men gathered around her.

Her eyes had lingered on Ragnar before she let them hover around all of them, pride beaming from her chest as she spoke. "I think we should make a toast to hail our king, Ragnar Loðbrók, for leading our joined people to another land of the West that we did not know of before. Odin is truly keeping his eye on you, Ragnar, I am sure of it. Hail king Ragnar!"

"Hail!"

Bjørn opened his eyes and shook his head lightly. He did not remember closing them. The sound of a raven sounded from above, and Bjørn looked up into the grey and heavy clouds, not seeing anything but a foggy and grey explosion of untouchable fields up there, not even a single ray of sunshine breaking through them.

The wind was becoming louder, and Bjørn soon rose to his feet, already feeling the moist of the oncoming rain in the air, like warm damp on his skin, and he quickly untied the deer from the loft plank. He had to prepare the fur soon before the weather became too wet.

Bjørn spun around when he heard footsteps behind him on the stairs of the porch, but he quickly relaxed again when he saw her snow white hair, as she met him with her white pearl smile, a warm bleeding sensation releasing in his chest.

Ingeborg giggled as he sighed out at her, sending her a small smile before turning around to enter the cottage.

"Hi," he breathed before he entered the cottage to drop the deer on the slaughter table, returning outside shortly after. Ingeborg was still smiling at him as he approached her on the porch, her eyes soon dropping to the blood on his hands.

"Uh, hi," she smiled sweetly.

Bjørn leaned forward to place a short kiss on her cheek, keeping his hands at a safe distance, away from her beautiful light dress. When he looked her in the eyes, he noticed that something was on her mind, her eyes flickering nervously from his one eye to the other.

He took a small step closer to her.

She had been told to say something to him.

"What?" he pressed.

Ingeborg's eyes fell to their feet, and he saw her biting her lower lip. "Uh, it's… my father," she mumbled under her breath, finally lifting her eyes to face his.

Her eyes were so blue, they reminded him of the sky on a bright summer day.

"What about him?" He could feel that she was nervous, but he did not mind. He liked it when she showed her soft sides, which was not very often.

Ingeborg's eyes escaped his as she spoke. "He, uh. He wants you to come with us to Svealand, to Uppsala, when we leave Kattegat. As an invitation to come and see our home and lands, of which we are very proud, you know."

Bjørn smiled at her without speaking for a long moment, long enough to cause Ingeborg to sigh out nervously, and he shifted his weight on his feet, smiling smugly at her.

"You know," he breathed, "I have already been to Uppsala one time before in my life."

He thought back to when he had travelled with his mother, his father and his sister to the temple in Uppsala, and he felt his heart fill with both sorrow and happiness. He kissed Ingeborg's cheek once more.

"But I would be honored to go with you and your father back to see where we shall share a life together some day."

Ingeborg threw her arms around his throat and kissed him hard. Bjørn chuckled, trying to keep his bloody hands away from her, but as her kisses turned softer, it was not long before they both had blood on them.

His mind was peaceful yet again for a while.

* * *

 *** I'm actually a bit confused about what to call the Vikings' sea vessels. A boat? A ship? In Danish we call them '** vikinge skib **' which corresponds to "viking ship" in English, but I recall them using 'boat' in the series. But they are named long ships too, right? Hm, I might prefer ship over boat.**


End file.
